


Frantic

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Case Fic, Drama, M/M, Relationship(s), Romance, X-file
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-08-29
Updated: 2002-08-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 00:48:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11346552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived atThe Basement, which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onThe Basement's collection profile.





	Frantic

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

Frantic

## Frantic

#### by Chad Moore

Author: Chad Moore  
Feedback:   
Website: Dream World http://members.tripod.com/~charmed_jedi/dreamworld.html Story Title: Frantic  
Story Code: XF-6B.03  
Series: Part three of the "Faith" series (see "Faith" and "Hope"). Fandom: The X-Files  
Keywords: Slash, Drama, Romance, Mystery, Action, Adventure Pairing: M/SK and K/O  
Rating: NC-17  
Status: Complete  
Archive: Yes, please; especially Slashing Mulder and Down In The Basement Spoilers/Timeline: This serial story takes place a few months after "Fight the Future." In this alternate version of Season Six, Mulder and Scully are back on the X-Files, with references to previous episodes peppered throughout. Disclaimer: The X-Files and all familiar characters are owned by 1013, Fox Television and were created by Chris Carter; any others were conceived in my warped imagination. No infringement intended. Acknowledgement: Special thanks to Goddess Michele for support, above and beyond the call of duty. I am very grateful for her outstanding beta that has made this not only a longer but a better story. Summary: Mulder is in turmoil. Having found and now lost a brother he never knew, he must deal with his painful blocked memories of the past and internal politics within the FBI itself. He has no idea that his brother Faith has met a dark and handsome stranger -- which is a good thing. Because that stranger is Alex Krycek, who has arrived with intentions that will change their lives forever. 

* * *

**PART ONE: STRANGERS IN THE NIGHT**

Expectations. Sometimes people set their sights low, but most of the time they set them too high. Either way, you're going to end up thrown by the result. 

That's the way Walter Skinner felt when he opened his condo apartment's patio door and moved back into the living room. He'd expected to return and find a very emotional scene -- after all, his agent and lover, Fox Mulder, was telling a young man named Faith Matthews that not only was said young man adopted but that he was also his brother. Instead, the Assistant Director found Mulder alone in a very empty living room. 

Before he could ask the question poised on his lips, Mulder glanced sadly heavenward. Clearly, things had not gone well. 

Closing the sliding glass door carefully behind her, Dana Scully also stepped into the room. "What happened?" she asked softly, concern audible in her tone. 

Mulder rubbed the back of his neck -- a nervous habit both his lover and the red-haired agent recognized. "He...ah, he...just ran out of here," Mulder explained, hoarsely. He blinked at the pair, his eyes wet and sad. 

'To call this day an emotional rollercoaster', Mulder thought, 'would be the understatement of the century'. He'd gone from finding out that his mother had given up a brother he never knew about some eighteen years ago, to protecting Faith from some unknown danger, and then with scarcely time to breathe, the whole truth had come out, and he'd swooped in on Faith and wound up telling him everything. And as usual, jumping in with both feet, and when the dust had settled, Faith hadn't wanted to hear it. 

Mulder shook his head with a shuddery sigh. 

"Oh, he's probably just out taking a long walk, trying to clear his head," Skinner suggested. 

"Yeah, I hope so," Mulder mumbled as he nervously chewed a thumbnail. 

"He's eighteen and -- you know -- that's a very, very tough age," Skinner replied, remembering his own rebellious teen years with a small inward cringe. "You don't know who you are, you don't know where you're going. After what he found out tonight it makes perfect sense that he would need some time to adjust. After all, you did, and you're no teenager." His warm smile softened the comment, and Mulder allowed himself to be warmed by it. 

"Yes," he agreed, throwing Skinner a sideways glance. "But what if he never comes back?" 

"He will," Scully said, sticking out her chin in a typical stubborn Scully pose. "Because I'm going to find him." 

Mulder's head jerked up. "Well, I'll come with you," he said, giving her a pleading look. Anything to keep himself busy. He couldn't bear the thought of standing still and just worrying -- inactivity had never been his strong suit, and now, with the emotional intensity of this situation, well, he had to do something. 

"No, you stay here--" Before he could argue, she added: "Just in case he comes back." In her heart, Scully knew that Mulder haring off after Faith was far from the best idea in the world. Her partner was still on an extended leave of absence for an illness that neither one of them understood yet, and, after the past few days, he really needed to take it easy. 

Mulder blew out his breath, frustrated, but knowing that she was right. Scully gave him a light, parting kiss on the forehead, as much a thank you as a goodbye. Mulder didn't have to say anything for her to know what he was thinking: 'Be careful'. 

She nodded. "I won't be gone long. You just wish me luck," Dana said, then turned on her heel. 

After the door closed behind her, Mulder turned to Skinner. "I don't like this." 

"Mulder," the older man said. He moved forward and placed a warm, comforting hand on the back of his lover's neck. 

But Mulder shook his gentle touch away. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Walter's face collapse a little. 

"Fox?" he said. 

Mulder sounded exasperated, but Skinner knew it wasn't him, and in a moment, Mulder confirmed it: "I can remember my mom, sitting by herself and she'd always have a sad look on her face, and...and she'd have tears in her eyes. I'd ask her 'Why are you so sad?'" Mulder took a breath, not meeting Skinner's eyes. "I thought it was about Samantha. But now with Faith...all these years...all the time I never thought about it. I didn't get it." He turned to face him. "But now I understand." 

"I know you're worried about Faith, but I think he just needs time," Skinner said at last. He touched Mulder's hair again, and this time the younger man allowed it. 

"I hope you're right." 

Mulder's lips parted as his lover went on soothingly, "I'm sorry about all this," and gave him a soft kiss. 

"You...you make it so much better," Mulder murmured against his mouth. Then, with a sniffle, he pulled away and sighed deeply. What Walter said made sense. Maybe he was just overreacting. "I know that Faith's having a rough time and I just can't help imagining what he must be seeing through his eyes." 

Mulder felt Skinner's strong arms encircle his shoulders, and he let his lover hold him. Mulder leaned into that broad chest and wondered aloud, "What child understands that he was given up?" 

* * *

Awash in a sea of hurt and confusion, Faith had blown off his party and felt compelled instead to go to his favorite dance club. He sat at the bar, resting his chin on his folded arms, and gazing at the empty Smirnoff's Ice bottle before him. 

Faith thought he'd been freaked out before, what with having the She-Bitch from Hell trying to kill him last week and all, but as the thumping techno music flowed through him he realized that this newest blow was a whole different definition of weird, sick and empty. 

He'd always had this feeling inside that he was somehow different, and now he knew why. Finding out that his entire life had been a sham; that his real mom had just dumped him like a sack of potatoes with some nun, claiming that she was afraid for his life; the redhead telling him that she thought he was carrying a virus; and to top it off, discovering a long lost brother that turned out to be none other than Special Agent Pain-In-The-Neck. 

'Is this some kind of big fat cosmic joke?' Faith wondered sadly. 

He didn't know where to go from here. 

He was working himself into an even more major funk when a low, sexy voice drifted into his ear. "Hey, you all right?" 

"Yeah, all things considered," Faith replied, swiping at his eyes, suddenly embarrassed. 

"Can I buy you a drink?" 

Faith sighed heavily, seriously not in the mood. "Look, buddy, if you're lookin' for an easy score--" 

"Actually," the man cut in, "I was looking for a friend. See, I've had a pretty fucked up day, and it looks like I'm not the only one. Maybe we can help each other out." 

Faith looked up with a disquieted frown. "Hey, I'm sorry, I--," He spun around and literally had to stop himself from gasping. "Holy sh--Hi, I'm Faith." 

Sitting beside him was a black-haired, sparkling-green-eyed hottie in dark jeans and wearing a scuffed brown leather jacket. 

Where had _he_ come from? Faith wondered, a little stunned by the man's intense good looks. 

As if he'd read Faith's mind, the guy stuck out his hand. 

"Hi, Faith," he said, smiling handsomely. "I'm Alex." 

Eyes wide, Faith grinned, pleasantly surprised as he shook the other man's hand. Faith noticed that he had a soft accent, though he couldn't place it. 

"So, Faith, what's your hard luck story?" Alex asked curiously in that whiskey and honey toned voice of his. 

"Oh, yeah, it's..." Faith leaned back on the bar stool and gave the stranger a long look. He was the very definition of dark and handsome; exotic good looks, thick sable hair and two of the most beautiful green eyes Faith had ever seen. When Alex looked at him with those eyes, something inside of Faith melted. They seemed to pierce through Faith's sadness faster than any of the club's drink selection ever could, and almost made him spill his guts about his turned-upside-down crazy life. 

Faith shook his head, and pasted on a playful grin. "I don't know, my Ma always said it's bad luck to tell all of your secrets in one night..." His voice faded and he felt a painful twinge as he flashed upon the faces of his parents, dead just a little over a year now, since that horrible rainy night that their plane had crashed. Then he thought of Mulder, his apparently new-found brother, and his birth mother -- at least he tried to imagine her. But part of him closed off at the thought of her, and he realized that he really didn't want to think about it. 

Heavy topic for a dance club, he thought ruefully, then quickly tried to conceal the hurt he was currently feeling by asking, "How about you go first?" 

"Well, I just got into town," Alex casually explained. "I'm here to see a sick friend, but I lost my luggage, all my money--." 

"And you were gonna buy me a drink?" Faith said with just a hint of teasing in his voice. 

"Guilty, yeah." The green-eyed man smiled shyly and Faith's heart gave an extra hard thump as it looped-the-loop in his chest. "Well, I guess I'd better see if I can find some help," Alex continued, moving away from the bar. "I'm sorry I bothered you, okay?" 

Faith mentally kicked himself -- if there ever was a time to remember his manners. "No, no, no, no, no," he said, hopping off the bar stool to stop Alex. "Not bothered. Not bothered at all. I-I'd love to help you out. Love to!" He realized that he was sounding almost frantic, but couldn't seem to stop himself. 

"Look, I don't want to keep you. I'll be fine. I'll figure something out." Alex grinned to show there were no hard feelings. 

Faith flashed him a reckless smile right back, showing that he was willing to take a risk. Alex really was hot, even if he was a stranger. "No, no, no! See, 'cos you'd have better luck winnin' the lottery than catchin' a break 'round here." 

"Yeah," Alex chuckled. He glanced up at the club's blinking neon sign. "I spent the last of my cash on a cab from the airport and this was as far as he'd take me. So this is it," he explained while pulling open a leather wallet to show Faith the lining. "This is all I've got -- a big fat nothin'." 

When Alex turned to stuff the empty wallet back into his pocket, it was hard not to notice that he carried his left arm rather stiffly, as if he'd injured it, though the rest of his body moved with a certain catlike grace. From there it was easy for Faith to observe the way those pants clung to his thighs... 

"Oh, it's all prime," breathed Faith, his hazel eyes gleaming. 

Turning back, Alex cocked his head and said above the music, "Sorry?" 

"It's a crime." Faith's eyes widened and he tapped a finger against his chin as he swiftly covered, "It's a crime how people take advantage of tourists these days." He held up his hand and pulled out his own wallet. "You know, I may not have a pot of gold, but I gotta couple of nickels to rub together." He thumbed through the bills. "So this oughtta get ya where you're goin'." With that, Faith thrust a twenty dollar bill in the other man's gloved palm. 

Alex's eyebrows shot up. "Faith, look, I can't take your money," he said, seemingly taken aback, even though he'd requested said help in the first place. 

Faith shrugged. "You gotta see your friend." 

"Thank you," Alex said, looking at the money and back up again. "I'll pay you back. I promise." 

"It's a couple of bucks." Faith waved a dismissive hand. "Don't sweat it." 

Faith caught his breath as the gorgeous man drew closer, his face only inches from Faith's. "I don't even know your last name," Alex said, his gaze boring into Faith's, insistent and fierce. 

"Matthews." Suddenly, Faith felt his cheeks flush. "From Newark." 

"Well, Faith Matthews from Newark, it's nice to meet you." He threw Faith a captivating smile, which the younger man caught earnestly. "You might not have the pot of gold, but you do have a lot of class." 

"Oh, yeah, that's me, a real good Samaritan," cracked Faith. "You go see your friend, okay?" His voice grew somber. "'Cos I know somethin' about losing someone you love. Don't waste a second. And whatever happens, make this time count." 

Alex gave the suddenly serious young man a quizzical look, but didn't hesitate a moment more to pocket the money. "I will, and thanks." Alex hurried away, turning back just once, to tell Faith: "I'll pay you back. I promise." 

"Oh, yeah!" Faith smiled and nodded and watched him disappear into the packed crowd. "Oh, yeah. Heard that before." He moved back up to the bar, catching one last glimpse of the other man's handsome face as he was leaving the club. "Drop-dead gorgeous, a bod that won't quit, and totally broke," Faith whispered to himself. "That's a song I can sing by heart." 

* * *

She stepped away from the desk and padded to the corner of the dimly-lit room where an open topped bar sat. He was concerned, she knew, and in the back of her mind so was she. There had been no word from their agent for some time now and the looks she received did nothing to quell her suspicions. Too much was at stake. If he proved to be a liability, then she... 

Spender cleared his throat. 

"Another drink?" she suggested, trying not to appear anxious while holding up a decanter of sherry. 

"Yes, another," he replied in his gruff voice. "Why not?" 

As she poured the crystal decanter's contents into a fresh glass, the black desk telephone began to ring. She immediately abandoned the sherry and reached for the phone instead. She didn't have to say anything. Only a select few were in possession of this number. She merely listened, her eyes darting between the handset and the puffs of blue smoke flowing from CGB Spender's mouth. 

Giving the man on the other end of the line his instructions, she replaced the receiver and turned toward the older man. 

Spender didn't appreciate her prolonged silence. "What is it?" he insisted finally. 

"An urgent development," she told him, straightening herself against the polished desk. "Our agent has made contact with Faith Matthews." 

A smile curled the man's lips. "Excellent," he said, flicking the remnants of his cigarette into a nearby ashtray. His forehead creased deeper as he raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "No complications?" 

She shook her head. "Nothing unexpected." 

"I didn't think he'd object." Spender smiled again. 

* * *

**PART TWO: FAMILY MATTERS**

The next morning Maggie Shelton had been on the verge of calling the police when her best friend Faith Matthews finally turned up back home at her apartment. Relief washed over the usually bubbly young woman upon opening the door and seeing him alive. 

"Faith!" she exclaimed. "Faith, thank God!" Maggie wrapped him in a hug. "I was so worried!" 

Her relief immediately gave way to angry irritation, however. Faith had decided to skip his going away party without telling anyone, including her. She checked the impulse to chastise him, though, when she stood back and saw his pale and stricken face. 

"I'm sorry," he said hoarsely. 

"You look like you just swallowed your gum," Maggie observed. "Or maybe somebody else's gum. What happened?" 

Faith stepped inside and shook his head. "You wouldn't believe me if I told ya," he muttered numbly. 

Slipping her arm around Faith's shoulders, Maggie led him over to the couch. "Faith of mine," she said gently, hoping her old nickname for him would help soothe him. "I want you to sit down over here, rest your tired self, just a bit, and then don't stop talking till I tell you to, okay?" She drew her legs up underneath her red cocktail dress she hadn't bothered to change out of and blinked expectantly at her friend. 

Faith inhaled sharply, slapping his hands down on his lap. He narrowed his eyes at her, trying to look tough and in control, and before he could stop it, everything suddenly came pouring out. 

"You remember that agent callin', right?" he asked and watched as Maggie shook her blond head 'yes'. 

"She stopped by last night looking for you," Maggie informed him, suddenly remembering how the red-haired agent's visit had shaken her up. 

The news caused Faith to grimace a bit. Unsurprised, he continued: "I went over to this 'too-rich-for-my-blood' condo," he continued, "and got ganged up on by her and two other Feds...who tell me I'm adopted." 

Maggie opened her mouth, stunned. "What? I--" 

"Oh, wait, it gets better," Faith said sarcastically. "I found out this one secret agent man and me are family. Brothers, or so they all claim." He waved his hands about with exasperation. "It's whacked. But it doesn't change the truth or the facts." 

"Oh, honey," Maggie said after a moment of silence as she processed what Faith had told her. What was wrong with those people, messing with her friend's life? The FBI was gonna have a big problem if she ever got a hold of them, she decided grimly. She glanced across at him -- Faith 'nothin'-rattles-me' Matthews was seriously freaked. 

"Everything's gonna be okay," Maggie said quietly, stroking Faith's arm and wishing there was something more she could do. "It always is." 

"I'm not sure, Mags," whispered Faith. Then he looked at his hands, fighting off tears. "I just need some time to think it all through, I guess." 

Confused and hurting for her friend all at the same time, Maggie nodded vigorously. "Okay. But sleep first, think later, 'kay?" she said, getting back on her feet. 

Faith gave a curt nod, a deep, exhausted sigh and settled back in the sofa cushions. Though he still felt jittery, he soon found himself drifting off to sleep with lingering thoughts that everything would be fine if he could only get back to his old life. And then his dreams filled with a certain green-eyed stranger. 

* * *

"Oh, Mom." 

Scully heard Faith's soft voice as she walked into the open doorway of his semi-repaired apartment. Having driven through the city for most of the night, searching worriedly for him, she had finally found him back at his loft. And now here he was, standing by the large bay windows and holding a framed photograph in his hands. 

Taking a tentative step inside, the red-haired agent cleared her throat. "I thought I might find you here," she said. Faith made a barely perceptible turn of his head. "Do you want me to go?" Scully asked. 

"I wish you wouldn't," he replied, much to her surprise. 

Scully moved closer. "I take it things didn't go too well with Mulder?" 

"They went." 

"Oh, I'm sorry." 

"Okay, _I_ went," he admitted. "I just went." 

Scully spread her hands in the universal 'look, I'm unarmed' gesture of diplomacy. "Faith, I'm not here for Mulder although I'm not going to lie to you and say that what's between you two doesn't worry me a little. But for now, I'm very concerned about you. Your life could still be in great danger." 

"What're you talkin' about?" asked Faith, half interested despite himself. "My blood again?" 

"Yes," she told him carefully. "Your blood sample -- the one I took from you last week -- it was stolen from the FBI science lab." 

Faith made a sound of mock shock. "That's some security my tax dollars ain't payin' for!" 

"Listen, Faith -- I think Teena Mulder was trying to protect you from some very dangerous men who will stop at nothing to conceal the truth," Scully explained, realizing how much she sounded like Mulder. "I was infected with a virus almost identical to yours, and was abducted because of it. I don't think you should leave town until we have some way of helping you. I'd like to run some tests--" 

A memory of her near death by cancer at the hands of those men came and went so fast she nearly missed it, but her body caught on, and she found herself shuddering, like someone had walked over her grave. 

Faith broke into her reverie. "Wait a minute, wait a minute! You want me to make one of the biggest decisions of my life right now?" Feeling anger and panic make his stomach churn, he went on, "When I woke up this mornin' and I looked in the mirror, I didn't recognize myself. I don't even know who I am anymore, Red!" 

After a moment, Scully said quietly, "I'm probably the last person that should say anything. But, you know, you do have a brother." 

Faith exhaled deeply. "Don't push it, all right?" 

The agent continued, "And even if you're angry now, you know, you're always gonna have each other." 

'How can she be so freakin' casual,' Faith wondered. 'For cryin' out loud she's tossin' the whole thing around as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world!' 

"Did you ever think of bein' a shrink?" he asked dryly. 

"No." 

"Then don't." 

"Faith," she began, but he swiftly cut in. 

"Excuse me? I'm supposed to just accept everything? Like 'oh, ho hum, look, instant family -- oh, and he works for the Fibbies'. How nice. How freakin' _nice_." The last words came out sharp and bitter. 

"I'm not talking about accepting this overnight, Faith. I'm just talking about loosening your grip a little bit in the grudge department. It doesn't have to be this way, Faith. So maybe -- maybe in time, you know, you'll realize what a gift you are to each other..." Scully trailed off, trying to find the right words. Then she took a look at the picture he was holding and gazing at. "Who's that?" 

"My Ma." 

"She's beautiful," Scully said softly. 

"You see this lady?" he said, holding up the frame. "She would've laid down on the railroad tracks for me. She took me to mass every single Sunday. All the homemade soup, the trips from Atlantic City to elementary school, the walks -- and now I find out that there was this lie hangin' over my head -- and hers -- the whole time." Faith shook his baffled head with frustration. "I just don't understand why they never told me the truth. And nothin' you say, or Mulder says, is gonna make it right." 

Scully followed the upset young man as he put the photo down on a tarp covered desk. "Maybe we can't make it all right," she agreed. "But, Faith, life is all about trying to do what's right without making too many mistakes. Yet as humans, we make mistakes all the time -- nobody's infallible. And we hope there's not too much damage, too much trouble. But sometimes there is. And when it happens, the people who love you feel and suffer along with you." 

"So this is sufferin'?" Faith blew out his breath and waved a dismissive hand. "This is not sufferin'. I'm sorry." 

"You listen to me," Scully snapped, suddenly growing weary of Faith's churlish attitude. "Mulder is my partner, my friend. I love him. And he's in pain, and I can feel that pain just as much as yours." 

Scully folded her arms and looked deep into Faith's teary hazel eyes. In them, she saw confusion and fear and resentment of the truth. For a moment she regretted losing her temper, but she thought she also saw something responding to her within him, so she continued. 

"You can't let it consume you," she appealed to him. "You should get out there and ask questions. 'How did I get here, how was I born, how did I get infected with a virus, how was I conceived?'" 

"Backseat of cars tell no tales believe me, Red," came his disarming reply. 

Scully eyed him curiously, not following Faith at all. "What do you mean?" she pressed him. 

Faith spun round to face her. "Oh, wake up! Wake up, huh? Why else would his mom give me up? She kept _him_ and took out the trash!" he retorted angrily, having jumped to conclusions on his own. 

Scully rolled her eyes. "I don't believe that, Faith. She thought your life was in danger." She sidled up beside him, trying to desperately make him understand. "Picture her; Teena Mulder, your mother: she's scared. She doesn't know what to do. So she gives the baby away. Imagine, just imagine what she's feeling." 

Faith turned away, not wanting to listen anymore, but Scully persisted. "Now, hey, Faith? Shutting out Mulder or anybody else in this world for that matter will not make up for the things that have happened in the past. But what has happened to you now, is that you have found a brand new family." 

"Family?" he repeated, the word sounding suddenly alien and strange to him. 

"Yes." 

"Mulder's upset because everything hit the fan," Faith tossed back. "His mom never, ever came clean about her big secret." 

"And he feels terrible because he thinks he lost you," the agent insisted. 

"You can't lose somethin' you never had." 

"Faith, Mulder's already lost so much -- his father, his--," she stopped and sighed, then lifted an eyebrow. "Can't you at least give him a chance?" 

"Let's switch places, okay?" Faith said, glaring and waving at her. "You go -- you stand here where I am at ground zero, and let's see how easy it is for you to roll over and forgive and forget all the lies you've been dealt. You know nothin', okay? You know nothin'." 

"Faith, you're missing my point," she said calmly. 

"No, I got the point," he blurted out. "I'm some kinda freak that my real mother never wanted." 

She shook her head obstensively. "No. That's not it. You don't understand at all. You need to look at the whole situation, and start accepting it." Scully took a deep breath. "A few years ago...my sister Melissa was murdered. I'd give anything to see her again." 

Faith knew that had to hurt, so he softened a bit. 

Scully shook the painful memory of her lost sister away. "Now, in your case, your birth mother is in a coma..." 

"A coma?" he whispered, eyes growing wide. Mulder hadn't told him that. 

Scully continued evenly, "Yes, and now you have a brother, and you can do something about him. That's my point. Everybody's got something in their lives they've got to live through -- and it's always going to be easier if you have someone to share the burdens with." 

After a long moment, he sighed and unclenched his jaw. "All right, I appreciate what you're tryin' to do here." 

The agent nodded. "Okay, thank you." 

"But, it's not about family, it's -- it's not about how -- how happy I was half of the time," Faith stammered as he circled Scully. "My life was like a -- if you think about it it's a Grimm fairy tale. My folks are dead. And I can't talk to them. And my brother -- there's no happy ending for me." 

"Sure there is," Scully assured him. "But you have to make it happen. Make your own happy ending. You can't talk to your parents, and that's hard, but, hey, you can talk to Mulder. You can do that," she told him kindly. 

"Mulder? I tell ya, I feel bad for him, 'cos he's obviously had a very hard time--" 

"Yeah." Scully nodded briefly, feeling as if they were coming to an understanding at last. 

However, Faith's anger flashed anew. "But _she_ made sure that Mulder drew the right straw." 

"Maybe this is the way it was meant to end up," Dana gently suggested. 

"You're sayin' that I was meant to be a Matthews from Jersey?" asked Faith, tilting his head at her. 

"No, I'm just saying, that you've got a family now. And all families are difficult. All of them. But they are also there for you, when you need them," she explained. Seeing that he still wasn't sure, and feeling too wore out to argue more, she threw up mental hands in defeat and said, "Look, you can do something about it or you can drown in your own tears." 

Faith chewed on his lip, then focused on Scully. "Is this the part where I pick myself up by my busy, busy, busy, boot straps?" 

"Is that chip on your shoulder last year's fashion trend or are you going to wear it the rest of your life?" she countered, then shrugged. "Your choice." 

"So what next, Red?" Faith said, sounding a little lost. He didn't know what to think anymore, and, despite Scully's words, he wondered if the choice was really his to make. 

Scully exhaled and rested one hand on her hip and the other on a table. "Well, I think I could use a drink," she said. "I feel like I've just been arguing over a case with your brother." 

A ghost of a smirk flashed across Faith's features. "It must run in the family." He slowly stepped up to Scully and ventured, "So you must like me -- a little bit, anyway, even after all the things I said to you today, right?" 

"Sure, I'm fond of you, Faith." She nodded, hiding a smile. "But don't get carried away or deceived by my sweetness. I'm really a pain, ask Mulder. Because I like to be right. That's what I do." 

"I hear ya loud and clear," Faith said, throwing his hands back. 

"The Matthews obviously gave you great qualities," Scully put in. "Personality and warmth. All I'm asking you to do is work with me a little here. And talk to your brother." She reached out and squeezed his arm meaningfully. "Please. Because if you don't, you might regret it." 

'Okay,' Faith told himself, 'I'll give this a chance if...' 

"How about we make a deal, huh?" Faith offered, laying all of his cards out on the table. "If you don't lose it this time, and I promise to try and make nice with Mulder, I'll let you take some more of my blood -- 'cos I'd really like to know what's going on -- and in exchange, I take my trip to Boston this weekend." 

Faith watched as the agent thought about protesting, and he quickly and passionately said, "We're talking about dreams here. My dreams. Smart aleck kid, y'know, with the good comebacks -- could've been somethin'. I can't...I can't let another opportunity slip through my fingers. So you gotta let me go." 

Scully eyed him cautiously. "All right, Faith, you've got a deal," she reluctantly agreed. "You know I want you to have it all. You've obviously worked hard and you deserve it. But--" 

"Perfect." 

"But you have to promise to keep in touch with me, okay? I'm serious about this." 

Faith's sparkling grin suddenly made Scully feel as if she'd been out-foxed, but she could see no alternative. 

"Red, you're what my Pop used to call simpatico -- in spades. I mean that." He sighed and glanced at the ceiling. "You know I've gotta learn to keep my big mouth shut." 

"Yeah." 

They exchanged grins. 

"Somethin' I've never really figured out in life, know what I mean?" Faith walked around the loft and shrugged his shoulders. When he spoke again he didn't sound quite so self-assured, "Well, maybe I'll go see Agent Poirot before I leave." 

"Oh, that would be wonderful," breathed Scully, then added pointedly: "Be nice, family's what you make it." 

Faith regarded her for a second, then broke into a wide, pirate grin. "You know, Red -- I mean Agent Scully, you're a good egg." 

* * *

Carrying two oversized mugs in his hands, Skinner turned from the kitchen and headed back into the living room. Mulder had ceased nervously pacing a few minutes ago and Walter had left Fox's relieved monotone as the agent talked with Scully on his cell phone. But as he returned, Skinner detected a steely edge to his lover's voice. 

"You're sure he's all right?" Mulder asked, biting his bottom lip as he paused to listen. He sighed deeply. "Okay, Scully. Thanks." Turning off the phone, he turned to find the A.D.'s concerned eyes resting on him. 

"That sounded tense," Skinner said, setting the mugs down on the coffee table. "What did she say?" 

Mulder ran a hand through his dark hair. "Faith's fine," he said. "Scully found him but she really has no idea what..." He clenched his jaw with sudden determination and started to stalk out of the living room. "I've got to see him." 

Blocking his path to the door, Skinner gently told him, "Mulder, no, you can't do this. Don't push him -- don't push yourself." 

"Do you know how guilty I feel?" Mulder said, stricken by the thought of how he had ripped Faith's life to pieces. 

"It's not your fault," Walter replied. "He's going to be fine, you'll see." 

Mulder felt an uncontrollable urge to smile at his lover tugging at the corners of his mouth. "When did you become a lawyer?" he wondered with a hint of humor. Then, even as he smiled, he asked in a small voice, "Am I gonna get some back up on this?" 

"You're gonna get plenty of back up from me," Walter said, flashing a warm smile of his own. "But Faith's eighteen years old and that's a very difficult age. I understand that it's hard. What you've got to realize is that a bond between two brothers can be very strong but it might take Faith a long time to accept the truth and feel it. Fox, you're not going to win many points with him if you confront him now." 

Mulder sighed and threw his hands up with exasperation. "I just feel pulled in a million directions!" he exclaimed helplessly. 

"Look, he's probably more hurt than angry and you can help him when he's ready." 

This conversation was going to drive Mulder mad. He shook his head slightly. "Yes, it's gonna take time and I...I...oh, hell!" The younger man fell forward into his lover's arms. "I need you...I need you so badly right now, Walter." 

Skinner planted a sweet soft kiss on his lips, then slowly drew him back into the room. "Come here," he said aloud, even though Mulder was following obediently. He took Mulder's hand and tugged him toward the sofa. The older man sat down and Mulder -- his nerves still sparking -- reluctantly joined him. 

"Put your feet up," Skinner went on, propping his lover's feet on his lap. "And take it easy." He leaned forward, then handed his lover one of the mugs. "Hot chocolate and peppermint schnapps," he explained to Mulder's dubious raised eyebrow. Then he removed Mulder's shoes and started to massage his feet, hoping that in some small way it would help to soothe his worries away. It seemed to work as Mulder let out a sigh. 

"Your brother's okay," Skinner said with assurance, "This is going to work out. And in the meantime, I am going to give you my undivided attention." 

"Oh," Mulder chuckled for the first time in what seemed like days, and boy, did it feel good. 

"So how are you feeling?" 

A dark cloud passed over Mulder's face again as he thought of his comatose mother, his new-found brother, and the disturbing visions and dreams that had found their way into his mind of late. He quickly pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind and took a long swig from the mug. 

"Exhausted, drained, confused -- all of the above," he sincerely answered as he sank back against the sofa pillows. 

"I want you to close your eyes," the older man proposed, his voice soft and warm. Mulder shrugged and decided to play along. "Close them and forget about everything that's happened today." 

Mulder's eyes popped back open. "But I--" he started to protest, but one look at Skinner's surly expression made it clear there'd be no arguing. 

"Close them -- that's an order," the A.D. growled and Mulder quietly obeyed. Skinner settled back, continuing his ministrations to Mulder's feet as he said: "Forget everything outside this room, Mulder. Just think about us -- you and me -- all alone here. Put all of your troubles outside the room, and focus on the man who's going to make everything all right I'm here, Mulder. Right here." 

Feeling his heart melt in his chest, Mulder whispered his lover's name. Walter gave him strength. His eyes fluttered open and he reached out for Skinner. Mulder kissed him passionately, wanting only to lose himself in this moment. Curling up in his lover's arms, Mulder could feel a comforting warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with hot chocolate and everything to do with Walter Skinner. 

While outside on the street, from the confines of a parked car, a pair of eyes stealthily peered up at the condo. Watching and waiting. 

* * *

**PART THREE: VITAL SIGNS**

It seemed like it had been forever since Mulder had been to visit his mother. Unsure and confused about so many things, he really wasn't positive if he even wanted to see her again after everything he'd learned -- the secrets -- but something inside pushed him on, plus Walter assured him that it might do him some good. 

Mulder's features softened as he gazed down at her. There was still no change; everything looked exactly the same. The IV on the back of her hand and another in the crook of her elbow on her other arm, still running silently and efficiently, and seemingly without effect. His own heart beat felt loud and heavy, seeming to outmatch the steady bleeping of a nearby heart monitor. 

Mulder put down a Pepsi he barely remembered buying and pulled up a chair beside the starched white hospital bed. He cleared his throat and very softly said, "Mom, I-I found him. I found Faith." 

As he sat beside her and spoke the words, he felt himself swaying in his seat; he didn't think he had ever been more stressed or drained in his entire life. He reached out and carefully took her still hand in his own -- it was like clutching warm clay, so lifeless did it rest there. 

Mulder shut his eyes and lowered his head. "I don't know...I...Why didn't you tell me?" His mouth dry, he gasped and felt a new wave of tears threaten to fall. "What could've been so terrible that-that you hid him and kept it a secret all these years?" Mulder pressed her hand against his cheek. "I wish you could open your eyes and tell me..." 

A noise behind him barely registered, although he found himself turning slightly, to see what it was. "And tell me..." he said again, and then he couldn't continue. 

Because, standing in the doorway of the hospital room was Faith. His brother. 

"I'm sorry," the younger man said, seeing Mulder's stricken face. "I shouldn't be here." 

He turned and headed back into the hall, but Mulder leaped up to intercept him. "No, wait," Mulder said. "I was just--" He hesitated, then: "I'm glad you're here." 

Faith suddenly felt nervous and uncomfortable, thinking that maybe coming here had not been such a good idea after all. He glanced over Mulder's shoulder at the woman sleeping in the hospital bed. He felt his jaw drop. This woman was...she was... 

"So she's my mom, huh?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest, trying for bravery, and sounding a little more flippant than he meant. 

"Ah, yeah," sighed Mulder, turning an anguished look on his mother, then glancing back at the young man in the doorway, and offering him an understanding glance. 

"Is she...I mean, is she gonna be okay?" Faith asked awkwardly. 

"We're hoping," Mulder nodded, opting to be relieved now that Faith was here. "I almost fell down when I saw you standing there," he admitted shakily. "Why are you here?" 

"To say good-bye," Faith replied quietly. 

Mulder's eyes flashed, and he spoke quickly, without thinking: "Saying good-bye's getting to be a real habit with you, isn't it?" 

Oh boy, Faith thought. I cannot win with this guy. 

"Well, I've got this job offer in Boston..." he explained, suddenly feeling defensive. 

Mulder absently rubbed at the back of his neck. "Oh. Yeah, Scully mentioned that." 

"Yeah, that Red is somethin' else," Faith said with a rueful smile. He saw Mulder frown. "She told me you were here. She's gonna keep in touch, y'know, about my blood and all." 

There was a slightly embarrassed pause. 

Mulder eyed him cautiously. He didn't want to get too excited about his brother being here, yet. Nor did he want any of his residual bitterness slopping over onto the young man, who looked ready to bolt anyway. Mulder understood, both from numerous psychology courses and years of personal experience, that it was best to go ultra-slow when establishing relationships, especially ones that were so new, and so shocking. So he said clumsily, "H-How are you holding up?" 

"I'm holdin'," Faith replied. While talking they had made their way out into the hall to the set of plastic chairs set up next to the door. They sat together, and Mulder leaned back and closed his eyes. Faith took the opportunity to steal a glance at Mulder. The guy was really shaken up, he thought, and realized that he himself still felt out of his depth from the events of the previous day. "So you turned out -- you've got a good life, huh?" he asked abruptly. "Everything turned out all right?" 

"Yeah," Mulder said, the surprise evident in his voice. He shook his head helplessly. "I just wish I could understand about what really happened." 

"I know, I know. Me, too. Um--" Faith paused, shifting uncomfortably when he noticed Mulder staring at him strangely, as if peering right through him. "It's like I tell everybody: take a picture, it lasts longer," he laughed nervously. 

"Oh, I'm sorry. It's just that...," Mulder started, his sad expression speaking volumes more than his words. 

"Just what?" 

"Your eyes," he said after a moment. "They remind me of my sister." 

Faith breathed. "I've got a sister?" 

"Yeah, yeah." Mulder nodded. "Her name is Samantha." 

"Sam -- I've got a sister," Faith said in wonderment. He'd always fantasized about having a sister when he was younger. "How is she?" he asked quickly. "Where is she?" 

"She...she disappeared a long time ago," Mulder said, grimacing. His voice was thick with hurt. "She was abducted." 

"Oh, gosh." Faith's eyes widened in a mixture of embarrassment, shock, and sadness. "Oh, I didn't--" He broke off, a dull flush rising in his face. 

They lapsed into an uneasy silence, and simply sat for a while, looking at everything in the clinical hall except each other. 

Mulder felt small and mean to be even the tiniest bit resentful of his brother and the fact that his sister was still missing after all these years. And that Faith had not shared in his own anguish over it...until now. 

"Where did you find the strength to go on?" Faith tried to convey his sympathy and willingness to listen, feeling a tenuous bond with the man at last, and Mulder sighed pensively. 

"I haven't yet. But I'll let you know when I do." Mulder swallowed hard and said, "It -- it took me a long time to recover. You know, and I've been searching for her ever since." 

Mulder thought it might be awkward, but he found it surprisingly easy to talk about this painful topic with Faith. 

"And now I find that I have a little brother," the agent went on. "And I just really wish I could make you understand that if I'd known about you, I would have found you," Mulder assured him. 

"You were a kid," Faith said with a shrug and a don't-sweat-it wave of his hand. 

Mulder pursed his lips together and fixed him with an intense gaze. "I know I was -- I was," he reiterated, nodding. "But it doesn't make it hurt any less." 

Faith touched him lightly on the arm. "Hey, ya don't have to feel sorry for me," he said softly. "My folks were great, great people." 

"I'm not feeling sorry for you, Faith. I'm feeling sorry for myself." At his brother's confused frown, Mulder explained, "I could've had a little brother shadowing me around, having fun together." He sighed deeply, regretfully. "I just wish we had some more time. I wish we could get a chance to talk about things." 

"Really?" 

"Yeah." Mulder thought for a moment then took out his wallet and flipped it open to show Faith a picture. "Faith, this is Sam." 

"Oh." Faith carefully held Mulder's wallet, peering at the photo. "Oh, she's gorgeous." He nudged the other man good-naturedly. "I see where I got my good looks from," he quipped. 

Talking about Samantha and looking at her picture was sending Mulder's mind reeling back to the past. "She'd call me Butt Munch all the time," he said, almost to himself. "One day, in front of all my friends at school she called me that. And I just yelled at her and told her never to call me that again. And now I think about that and it makes me really sad." His voice cracking with emotion, Mulder brushed at his eyes. "And I would give anything to hear her just call me that one more time. I miss her." 

Feeling a sudden ache in his chest, Faith could totally understand where the agent was coming from. "I know what ya mean," he offered, quietly. "I miss my folks so much. My ma was the whole world. I miss her. I miss her smile. I miss her laugh. I miss all the things she used to cook in the kitchen. She always used to take a couple of bucks and slip it into my pocket and say 'You know what, Faith, go out and buy yourself something nice, but don't tell Pop.' She always gave me something, a shirt, a CD. Every time I saw her. And I'd give anything to hear her voice again." 

Mulder felt his tension, sensed the pain hovering just below the surface. "Well, you know, nobody's gonna take those memories away," he said, then carefully added, "and maybe, you and I, in time, we can make some, you know, new ones." 

"I-I hate getting emotional, y'know," Faith stammered, blinking away tears. "I'm sorry. I'm not usually like this. I just don't like it at all." 

Mulder found himself watching Faith again. He thought of how odd it would be to lose Faith now, even though he'd just found him -- apparently there was some credence to the Nature vs. Nurture argument. He felt dismayed that Faith would be leaving so soon. The agent frowned, suddenly playing devil's advocate and thinking of all the trouble possibly awaiting his brother. All of the horrible things that could possibly happen zipped through his mind. Given the recent past -- discovering the virus victims -- he didn't even want to consider those thoughts. 

"You know, I wish that you weren't moving so far away," Mulder told him with feeling. 

"I'm a big boy," Faith said as he shrugged his shoulders and cracked a soft smile. "I can take care of myself. Don't worry about me." He rose, and turned to Mulder uncertainly. 

Mulder blinked. "Oh, I know. I know. Wait!" He held up a finger. Wallet in hand again he slipped out one of his FBI business cards. "Hey, here's all my numbers just in case you ever wanted to talk, you know, about anything. Whatever." 

Faith accepted it with wide eyes. "I can go online," he said. "I can tell you -- let you know what's going on." 

"Oh, great. Great." Mulder found a pen in a pocket, and Faith held the card while Mulder scrawled his e-mail address onto the back of it. "Um--" Mulder looked up at Faith now, wearing a crooked half-smile on his face. "You know, the more I talk to you, the better I like you." 

"It happens to everybody," Faith wryly replied. He turned and started to walk away. But at the corner, he paused and flashed a smile back at Mulder. "Take care, Butt Munch," he called. 

Mulder couldn't help it. He grinned. 

And within Teena Mulder's hospital room -- unseen by anyone -- the fingers of her left hand twitched, just for a moment, then lay still on the bed. 

* * *

Startling green eyes caught Faith off guard as he stepped through the elevator doors and into the dimly lit hospital lobby. 

It was Alex, the gorgeous stranger he'd met at Michele's the other night. He was still wearing his weather-beaten jacket, dark ensemble, and though one hand was shoved deep in a pocket, Faith noticed he was sporting the same black gloves due to the one displayed on the end of Alex's rather stiff left arm. 

The sight of him took Faith's breath away. 

"Hey! Look at that!" Faith exclaimed loudly. "It's my tourist in distress!" He smiled. Things were definitely looking up. 

"My good Samaritan." Alex grinned back. 

Alone with the handsome sable-haired man, Faith suddenly felt nervous. He licked his lips. "Um, what are you doing here? You're not following me are ya?" A flush of pink colored his cheeks as he tried to decide if that would be a bad thing. 

"Oh, I...," Alex stumbled, then brightened. "Wait! Before I forget, here you go -- twenty bucks on the nose." He took out a bill and pressed it into Faith's hand. 

At his touch, Faith's heartbeat sped up. "The money I loaned you for the cab," Faith said unnecessarily, trying to ignore the flutters in his stomach. 

"Mm-hmm. I promised you I never forget a loan." Alex gave a sudden boyish grin. "You're a lifesaver." 

Faith couldn't help smiling wider. "I'm impressed. You tracked me down. I guess that -- You might actually--." 

Alex glanced at him almost shyly. "Well, actually, the funny thing is I'm here to see a friend," he confided. 

Ding! The elevator on the far side of the lobby chimed open. Alex looked at it, then back at Faith. 

"I'd better go," he said regretfully. He turned to leave. 

'Stop him!' Faith told himself harshly. 'Don't just let him walk away!' 

But, then, Alex turned, raising an eyebrow. "Hey, um...I'm in town for a while. If I happened to bump into you again where would be the most likely place?" 

Faith laughed out loud. "The Three Oaks -- Number Thirteen, unlucky for some." 

Alex nodded and then he walked inside the elevator and the doors clunked shut. 

'Wow, he's...Wow!' Faith thought dreamily, still gazing after him. 

* * *

**PART FOUR: NOCTURNAL ADMISSIONS**

Late that afternoon Skinner strolled into the condo, and headed for the kitchen. He'd stopped and bought a cold bottle of white wine at a little shop near his apartment, thinking a glass of wine, a big dinner, and a hot bubble bath would work wonders for Mulder. 

Skinner couldn't help thinking how wonderfully normal that sounded and how he really ought to be doing more of this. Dinner, drinks, simple things for himself, and even more, for his lover. Mulder had been through a hell of a lot recently, and Walter wanted badly to make things better. And if he couldn't actually fix the damage Mulder had sustained over the years, well, he could at least try. 

The older man instantly brightened when his lover opened the front door and breezed into the apartment. "Hey," Mulder began, clearly out of breath. 

Skinner's eyes darkened and his gaze narrowed, worriedly. Seeing his agent so agitated, he automatically feared the worst. 

Mulder rushed over to Skinner and hugged him fiercely, resembling a hyper three year old who'd just received the best new toy in the world. "There's so much that I wanna tell you," he gasped. 

"So tell me," Skinner said, his voice as smooth as velvet and as a soft as falling snow. "Tell me everything." As he spoke, he stroked his lover's hair and back soothingly, then disengaged himself gently to look into Mulder's eyes. 

"Faith came to see me while I was at the hospital," Mulder explained. 

"Really?" 

"Yeah." 

"What happened?" breathed Skinner, bracing himself. "Don't tell me you got more salt rubbed in the wounds." 

"No, no, no," Mulder spoke swiftly, the words coming out of him in a rapid jumble. "I thought, you know, that he'd want to fight or something, but, no, no, he was still confused and hurt but, but actually concerned about mom -- about me. I think." 

Skinner's eyebrows reached for the ceiling. "So you bonded?" he wondered, skeptically. 

"Yeah," Mulder said, grinning sheepishly. "I guess we did." 

"Wow." The A.D.'s mocha-colored eyes widened as he remembered Faith's abrupt departure at their last meeting. "That's amazing." 

"We're not best friends -- not by a long shot," Mulder assured him, then added, "but it's a start." He turned and started pacing the room as he talked, "Seeing him has just made me think about so many things, you know? Learning about Faith has changed parts of my life, but then again, I've done that myself, too. I've changed." He paused to cock his head and look at the older man, who found the action absolutely endearing, and oddly vulnerable. 

"Like how I used to hide my feelings," Mulder continued. "My _real_ feelings. That first night when you kissed me...in my gut, I said, "Go for it." And I did." 

"And I'm glad you did," Skinner said, smiling. 

"You might not believe this," Mulder went on, still in excitable-kid mode, "but I didn't even argue or try to stop Faith when he told me he's going to Boston." 

"You didn't?" If Skinner looked skeptical before, he looked downright incredulous now. 

"I took your advice," Mulder said. "But like I said, I've changed, I think...It was tough, but I did it." Mulder sighed and his breath lightly ruffled his bangs. "I'm putting so much on the line here: my brother's health, his safety..." 

"That's unbelievable," Skinner conceded as he approached his lover. "And it means something, you know, something that I've always known about you. That you're willing to take a risk. And not just for little green men." 

"Yes, I am." Mulder nodded and waved his hands as he said, "Reckless Mulder." He suddenly grimaced. "Even though it makes me kind of sick to let him go, I know that I have to." He glanced heavenward. "I'm trusting Scully to keep him well." He turned away from Skinner, but his lover's voice froze him in his tracks before he could take so much as a single step. 

"Come here." As he spoke, Skinner wrapped his arms around Mulder's waist, drawing him back in close. Mulder sank back onto his lover's broad chest and gripped Skinner's forearms. "I've got a pretty good idea that everything's going to be fine," Skinner said, resting his unshaven chin on the younger man's shoulder. 

Mulder could feel the rumble of his deep voice between his shoulder blades. "It's okay, it's okay," the agent said, his eyes shining. "I'm strong. I am. And I'm even stronger when I'm with you." He luxuriated in the comforting warmth of Skinner's arms, then thoughtfully said, "You know what's amazing?" 

"What?" Skinner put his finger to Mulder's chin, drawing the younger man's face around until he had to turn completely in Skinner's arms to look him in the eye. He gave him a smile, and got a small one in return. 

"You are," Mulder said, his eyes shining eagerly. "You've been right here through all of this. Letting me rant and rave, keeping me calm just when I needed it. Knowing when to step in, when to hold back. Right here..." His voice trailed off. 

"Fox, where else would I be?" Skinner said sincerely. The moist shine of unshed tears flooded his dark eyes, making them sparkled. 

Mulder lowered his own gaze, lashes fluttering closed then opening wide as an impish smile bloomed on his lips, and the air around them filled with desire. He hooked his arms around Skinner's waist and squeezed tightly. 

Skinner groaned and made a sound of mock-gasping, then chuckled, "Oh, I think you broke a rib." 

Mulder tore himself away, smiling. "That's not a rib," he said, pressing his fingers into Skinner's side. "It's a ticklish spot." 

"You broke my ticklish spot," Skinner told him in a playful growl. 

With a gusty laugh that was as welcome as it was unexpected, Mulder hid his face in Skinner's chest. This was exactly where he wanted to be -- in Walter's arms. Skinner breathed deeply, the feel of Mulder's body pressed hard against his own driving his senses wild. His heartbeat thumped inside his chest as lust filled his every sense and threatened to tear loose like a caged tiger. His one and only thought was how badly he wanted to be making love to the magnificent man in his arms. 

The A.D. touched his brow to his agent's, speaking telepathic thoughts only lovers could discern. 'You're made for this, Mulder, aren't you?' he thought while his hands moved up and down the other man's back. 'You're always thinking of it. I know you are. You may be busy with chasing down the truth, but some part of your brilliant mind is always recalling, imagining, desiring what you want. I can see it gleaming in your eyes...' 

He pressed against Mulder's eager body and felt a strong shiver of anticipation inside. He hugged his lover and found Mulder's hot smiling lips with his own. They kissed long and deep until both men were intoxicated by the taste, the texture, the scent of one another. 

With Mulder still wrapped in a solid yet gentle embrace, Skinner led him upstairs; their lips stayed touching all the way down the hall and into the bedroom. The older man pulled his mouth off of his lover with some reluctance, smiled at the soft noise of complaint he got for this action, then softly drew a deep breath and blew softly on Mulder's neck where he could see a tender blue vein quickly pulsing there. Skinner kissed and licked it, blew again and got a shiver for his efforts, then moved to his lover's earlobe, nipping at it, then probing his ear gently with his tongue. Mulder moaned faintly, and the sound of his desire sent Skinner's own arousal soaring. 

Breathing hard, Skinner struggled to pull off the maverick agent's shirt and unfasten his pants. Mulder jerked his head up the second his shirt was lifted away, and he fixed Skinner with a mischievous smile. With the older man holding him with both arms, Mulder began pawing at the A.D.'s own clothing with nimble fingers until Skinner was left standing with only his briefs intact. 

Skinner, near ravenous now, leaned Mulder's naked body back onto the bed. He stood then and simply grinned in something like amazement at the way Mulder laid there with his chest rising and falling in quick breathing, encompassing the older man's vision of the perfect feast -- just waiting to be devoured. 

Mulder gave a lopsided take-me-now little grin as his cock, big and stiff, strained upward toward his lover. Skinner put his palm onto it and slowly squeezed. Mulder gasped and arched his back involuntarily. 

Skinner slowly came up to the bed, knelt down beside his lover, and tenderly passed his large hands over Mulder's sides. He enjoyed the heat of the younger man's body and felt a thrill upon seeing the heaving chest, straining erection and heat flushed face of his lover, relishing the thought that he could turn Mulder on so. 

His writhing now having thoroughly disturbed the bedspread, Mulder raised his eyebrows and licked his lips expectantly. Without a word he flipped onto his stomach and offered his bottom to Walter. The A.D. took the message right away, and ran his palms over Mulder's back and over his delicious behind, and he felt his own crotch grow heavy from the sight before him. 

From Mulder's lips came an approving low "mmm..." as Skinner pressed his erection against the agent's soft ass. Then the older man moved his body up until his hardness was trapped between the cleavage of his lover's ass. Mulder gasped, bit his lip, and almost stopped breathing, waiting for more. 

Mulder closed his shining hazel eyes, rubbed his face in the sheets and moaned, "Mmm, Walter...Yeah..." Tremors of desire shuddered down his back as he lifted his bottom a little. Sitting back, Skinner pulled away his damp Y-fronts and swiftly reached inside the bedside table. Hearing his lover tearing open a condom, Mulder started panting in expectation. When the older man paused and gently spread Mulder's buttcheeks, the agent's panting kicked up another notch, and was punctuated with quiet moans. 

Skinner lubed his sheathed cock generously and pressed its tip against Mulder's opening. The younger man groaned and shifted his ass, wiggling his hips invitingly and moving back as far as he could, trying to get Skinner in, but the former Marine wanted to continue his earlier teasing a little. He slid the crown of his cock all along Mulder's butt -- up and down, across the cheeks and along the cleft, and then he did it again. A pleading note rose in Mulder's moaning, and Skinner -- on the verge of coming right on the spot himself -- began to slowly insert his cock. 

Mulder drew a deep breath, ready to take it in, and Skinner moved forward, inch by tantalizing inch. Mulder groaned, "Oh, God!...Walter, yes..." Then, in one long, deliberate movement, his lover delivered the shaft to the core, and, with a moan of sheer delight, Mulder took it all, to the very base. 

Skinner gasped from the incredible feeling of Mulder's hot, tight muscles tightening around his hard length. Letting his lover get used to the fullness within him, Skinner didn't move for several moments. He laid his full weight on top of Mulder, pressing his muscled chest and stomach to the younger man's warm velvety-smooth back, burying his face in Mulder's dark silky hair. 

Mulder arched his back slightly, trying to hold Skinner closer and prompting the other man to begin moving. Skinner started sliding his gloved cock back and forth, slowly at first, then with more purpose. In that instant everything in the universe blinked out of existence as their bodies melted into one. 

Mulder's heavy breathing mixed with Skinner's broken deep moans, and these sounds evolved into a scorching rapid trickle of nonsense words and unintelligible affirmations streaming through their frames. Feeling the first spasms of pleasure from Mulder's body, Skinner's cock grew bigger and Mulder's grip on it tightened further. 

Mulder almost couldn't hear any other sounds now beyond the pounding of blood in his ears. His hands convulsively clutched desperately at the sides of the bed... as he cried out and felt his orgasm bursting through him. 

His lover's muscles violently squeezed Skinner's cock, and everything within the older man boiled over at that moment; the white-hot flow burst through his steel-hard cock, shooting deep inside of the condom buried inside of Mulder with such exquisite pleasure that Skinner felt his entire body quivering with excitement. 

A few more thrusts, slower and slower--and then Mulder squeezed Skinner's resting cock, bringing a low, deeply satisfied moan from the Assistant Director's lips. 

Mulder laid with his eyes closed, and a soft smile wandered over his face, lit in his closed eyes, made his nose twitch, then settled happily across his lips. The room began to spin... 

Blissful emptiness overtook him. He kept his eyes closed and abandoned himself to it, feeling so very good that he didn't want to move or think... 

He laid still for several minutes. Then Skinner gently planted soft kisses into the flesh around his shoulders and wondered, "Hey, you still alive?" 

"No," Mulder muttered in reply, still smiling, still not moving. 

Skinner chuckled, "Am I that good?" 

"With all the random chaos in this crazy world of one thing I'm certain..." Mulder paused thoughtfully in typical Mulder fashion before finishing, "You, Walter Sergei Skinner, are positively fantastic!" 

Another feeling of warmth exploded in Skinner's chest as he leaned forward and softly kissed Mulder's wet lips. With a sigh he carefully pulled out his lover and laid beside him. 

Mulder rolled over onto his back, stretched himself sweetly, then climbed on top of Skinner, kissed him passionately and announced, "I'm hungry!" 

Skinner smiled and embraced him. He'd learned that Mulder's appetite for food and sex seemed to go hand in hand, so to speak. "Whatever you want, it's yours," the older man offered him. 

From the corner of Mulder's mouth the tip of his tongue poked out adorably and he gave Skinner a pensive yet hopeful look. "How about ice cream with rivers of chocolate syrup?" he said, impishly. "Interested?" 

"Interested?" Skinner chuckled, with sparks playing in his eyes. "You're speaking my native language!" 

Skinner pulled Mulder closer and kissed him, long and sensually, feeling a new excitement slowly rising in himself and Mulder as the younger man's cock twitched into life again. 

* * *

Night came and with it sleep. 

Mulder twisted and turned in bed, the sheets coming loose and slowly wrapping themselves around his long legs like a boa constrictor. 

Beside him Skinner stirred briefly, the movement of his lover and the incoherent murmurs from his open lips piercing through Walter's dreams. 

But the hazy dreams of the A.D.'s were in stark contrast to the nightmare that had imprisoned Fox Mulder. No matter how much he shouted to himself he couldn't shake himself awake. His eyes twitched feverishly beneath his screwed tight lids... 

He squeezed his eyes shut, tight against the blazing light pouring down upon him. Fear. He couldn't move for his arms and legs were fastened to his sides. 

His eyes snapped open, wincing from the light. Chest heaving, throat ragged, too painful to speak, almost too agonizing to breathe. Shadowy figures moved before him. Mumbled words floated through his ears, but didn't register. Then one of the forms detached itself from the others and a pair of cold eyes peered down at him. 

Then everything started to go dark, as if he were entering a tunnel. He found himself moving down a familiar hallway. He felt his body tense with alarm as he heard his mother's pleading voice coming from behind a door at the far end. It seemed to stretch out before him, seemingly miles and miles away. 

Mulder reached for the doorknob, and the illusion of distance shattered. The handle turned and the door flung open. Before him stood a man with his back turned. He slowly moved around and Mulder saw a specter whose grim features spoke of lies and horrible things...the Cigarette Smoking Man...Spender. 

The nightmare abruptly ended and blew away swiftly, suddenly, jerking Mulder awake with a fearful shout. 

"Fox!" Skinner started awake from the sound and threw his arms around his stricken lover. "What is it?" 

There was a roaring in Mulder's ears. He was vaguely aware of strong arms holding him. But everything seemed so far away. Gradually the roaring lessened. He glanced up and saw Walter's worried, caring expression. Beads of sweat dampened Mulder's face as he shuddered. The onslaught of an attack after a week free of them left Mulder more shaken than before. 

"Sick," Mulder muttered, his head throbbing. 'That was an understatement,' he thought. But his head hurt way too much for thinking. The wretched feeling had hit him so fast and with such force that he felt as if someone had blindsided him with a flying tackle. 

Skinner kept one arm around Mulder while he reached for the phone with the other. "I'm gonna call Scully," he said, slightly breathless. 

"No," Mulder said adamantly. 

"Fox, you can't dismiss this," Walter told him, his tone both firm and gentle. "She's your doctor and she can help you. Something is seriously wrong." 

But Mulder wasn't listening. He couldn't shake Spender's face -- glaring at him -- from his mind. He went over the vision again. What was all those nightmarish images and emotions he'd felt trying to tell him? Mulder struggled to collect himself and looked at Skinner with wide, frantic eyes. Mulder didn't try to hide the incident away as he'd done before with Scully. He knew he could never hide anything from Skinner -- not would he want to. 

"You're right," he replied, "Walter, I-I can't go on like this. I've got to find answers. I've got to know what happened to me...I think I need to see Doctor Werber -- my therapist -- again." 

"Are you sure?" Skinner asked. 

"Positive." 

Mulder studied his lover's face. 'He's probably thinking what a lunatic I am,' he told himself glumly, running his fingers through his hair. 

"All right," Skinner said quickly. "Fox, if this is what you need then I'm going to be there for you. I want you to be fine." He smiled reassuringly. 

Mulder nodded and allowed Walter to gently pull him close to his chest. All the distraught agent could think about was learning the truth; discovering what he'd locked away in the darkest places of his mind. Mulder needed to find out. Afterward, everything would be back to normal. It just had to be. 

* * *

**PART FIVE: THE CONSPIRACY STARTS AT HOME TIME**

The next morning, Skinner walked back into his apartment carrying a small take-out bag in one hand and a covered styrofoam cup in the other. Keys clasped between his teeth, he closed the door and let the keys drop with a jangle down onto a nearby table. 

"Mulder?" he called, casting his eyes over the room. No thrown-about pages of newspaper, a blank screened television... He came to the conclusion that the agent must still be in bed. As he made his way upstairs, Skinner was relieved that the heavy emotions of last night seemed not to have followed them into the sunshine. 

Having sat up with Mulder all night, he'd finally managed to calm his stricken lover by early morning's approach, and he had even managed to get a call in to Scully, who had promised to be over to check on her partner some time that afternoon. 

But Skinner had a feeling that Mulder hadn't been particularly thrilled with his call to Scully. Mulder had pouted a bit and then retreated back under the covers shortly thereafter and had apparently yet to emerge. 

Skinner knew that Mulder's nightmares were due to the trauma he'd just been through. It had all been too much for the younger man -- Hell, to Skinner, it sounded like way too much for anyone to absorb. 

Skinner had optimistically believed that Mulder's talk with Faith would help ease the hurt and abandonment issues that had been brought up in such an ugly way, and allow both of them to heal. Instead, something had happened that had churned up a hornet's nest of repressed memories in his lover, and Walter desperately wished he knew how to help him. 

Skinner's bleak thoughts drifted away the moment he saw Mulder coming down the hall wearing nothing but his pajama bottoms. He was muttering to himself and attempting to smooth down his hair, which was in a serious bed-head state. Even when Mulder was disheveled, Walter thought, he was still one of the most handsome men he'd ever seen in his life. 

"I don't think pastry and a double latte's gonna solve all this," Skinner began, while handing both items over. "But I think you should take them anyway because my grandma always said, you never refuse a gift given with a full heart and when it comes to you my heart is very, very full." He leaned in close to kiss Mulder softly on the forehead. 

Mulder shifted the treats to one hand, and rubbed at his eyes with the other, then peered at Skinner with a still sleepy expression. "I'm feeling better already," he replied bravely. 

"No, you're not," Skinner said, knowing better. 

His lover cringed guiltily. "No, I'm not," Mulder admitted with a sigh. Though it was early morning, the soft light streaming in through the windows still threatened Mulder with a dizzying headache. 

Hands on hips, Skinner wondered aloud, "I blew it, didn't I?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"I called Scully. I caught you off guard..." 

Mulder shook his head. "No, I understand. You were just looking out for me. And it's appreciated, Walter, even if I don't always show it, or say it the right way." He willed away the headache that wanted to drop him, and continued, "Anyway, I just got off the phone with Doctor Werber. He managed to fit me in at noon." 

If he could find out what had happened all those years ago, then the attacks and nightmares would surely end. Or at least Mulder told himself that. In truth, though, all he wanted right this moment was to go to Skinner, feel his warm lips on his, and just fall into his arms. Despite the temptation that visual offered, it wouldn't get him answers, though, and right now that's what Mulder needed most. 

Skinner nodded, his dark eyes kind and solemn. "All right. We'll leave right before lunch then and grab a bite afterward. How does that sound?" 

"Walter, this day's gonna be loaded. You don't have to--" Mulder started to protest, but the surly former Marine swiftly interjected. 

"I know I don't _have_ to go with you, Fox," Skinner said, moving closer and placing a comforting hand on the younger man's shoulder. "But I _want_ to. I'm going to be there for you no matter what." Then, he raised a thick finger and he shook it mock sternly. "No arguments." 

Mulder, speechless for several heartbeats, gave a deep sigh of gratitude. "O.K." 

"I know that you've got to deal with this before it deals with you and that if you don't it could cause you grief for a long time," Skinner added, still stroking his lover in a manner more comforting than carnal. 

"It's incredible," breathed Mulder. 

"Incredible that I want to go with you?" Skinner asked, arching two quizzical eyebrows above the rim of his glasses. 

"Incredible that I got so lucky." 

Skinner covered the emotion that threatened to make his eyes water with a rough but loving growl: "Your latte's getting cold." 

* * *

I can't believe it! 

Faith carefully peeled away the brightly printed card attached to Maggie's front door. He'd walked outside to collect the paper and hadn't expected anything like this in a million years. 

Inside Maggie spread some jelly on her last piece of toast and munched happily, humming some half remembered tune to herself. She got up, brushed absently at toast crumbs, and trotted into her living room to find the sofa bed already folded away and the front door wide open. Before she could give herself completely over to wonder or panic, Faith walked back inside and -- to her utter relief and surprise -- gave her a shiny wide grin. 

Maggie had been so worried about her best friend since those FBI people had turned his life inside out. But here he was, looking like good ol' Faith again. Maggie suspected it had something to do with the card he was staring at in his hand. 

Faith closed the door, humming absently to himself. 

Maggie licked sweet jelly from her lips. "Look at you grinning from ear to ear." She glanced down at the envelope. "Where did that come from?" 

"It was taped to the door," he explained, his infectious enthusiasm boiling over onto her. 

"Oh, my, Faith! You've got a secret admirer!" she giggled. 

Faith's cheeks turned slightly pink. "It's no secret. Alex sent me a card. A gorgeous card, I might add. He just wants to take me out to dinner to thank me, that's all." He looked down at the handwriting, then back up again. "He remembered. He's a good guy." 

"Alex?" she repeated, bursting into an excited smile herself. "You mean Alex-the-incredible-hottie-you-met-at-the-club-Alex?" She took a breath and shook her head. "This guy is obviously mad for you." 

"Aw, I don't know about that," Faith said, careful not to jinx the possibilities. "All I know is that Alex wants me to meet him tonight at Promenade Park." 

"Hmm, just a charming distraction then, before your trip to Boston?" Maggie teased, but Faith was too busy off in his own little world to notice. 

Faith was seriously beginning to feel as if he was being swept off his feet, but a niggle of doubt tugged at his mind. 'That cute Alex better not be yankin' my chain,' he thought, then broke into a boyish smile. "It's kind of a love note, isn't it?" he said, winking at Maggie. "First one I've ever gotten." 

In the year since she'd known him, Maggie had never seen Faith light up like this. "He must really be something," she said, surprise and affection for her friend softening her tone. 

"He is," Faith agreed, already looking forward to seeing Alex again, more so than he was even willing to admit. 

* * *

Scully strode briskly down the carefully neutral toned FBI hallway, past Skinner's empty office, and further along toward the one occupied by Director Alvin Kersh. She'd received a call first thing this morning that the Director had requested her presence at a meeting. 

Scully frowned as she drew near the door. Mulder had been the target of the man's temper before, and she knew full well that the director treated anyone close to him as a problem as well. Kersh asking for her now, especially while Mulder was on extended leave, could only mean one thing. Trouble. 

She paused to take a deep, calming breath, then straightened her royal-blue blazer and matching skirt before knocking on the door. 

"Come in," the director's permanently grave voice called to her from the other side. 

Dana stepped inside. 

Kersh sat behind his desk, hands folded on top of an open folder sitting in the center of the blotter. He was not smiling. 

And the man seated in front of the desk... Scully felt a start of surprise as she recognized him. It was Jeffrey Spender. 

Her eyes narrowed as every internal alarm she had started ringing. She felt as if she'd just walked into the eye of a storm -- or been swept up into it. The director stared at her for several long seconds. 

"You wanted to see me, sir," she said coolly, refusing to be baited. 

"Have a seat, Agent Scully," Kersh offered, although to Dana it sounded more like an order. "Agent Scully," he began, his lips barely moving as he spoke, "it has come to my attention that Agent Mulder has been absent for some time, shirking his mandate while cases have been building up or simply left hanging open." 

Scully shot Spender a quick look. She didn't have to be Miss Marple to figure out who'd drawn a complaint about Mulder's illness to the director's attention. But Scully held her tongue. Antagonizing Jeffrey Spender wouldn't help anything. 

"Before you say anything I recommend that you think about your own future with the bureau." Kersh gave her a hard look. 

Scully felt a chill skitter down the back of her neck. But she stuck out her chin and gave Kersh her best 'in-control' stare. "Would you please clarify that, sir?" she asked coldly. 

As if on cue, Jeffrey cleared his throat. Scully watched him direct his comment at the stone-faced Kersh. "The X-Files is sliding and it needs someone who can take charge," he explained, then turned to her. "Agent Scully, I only want to help. Mulder is too distracted and ill. Like it or not, I am the man for the job." 

"The X-Files, as your partner has pointed out, needs two people to continue the investigations," Kersh informed her, obviously enjoying throwing Mulder's words in Scully's face. "If Agent Mulder is unable to resume his duties within the next week, he will be reassigned and someone will be chosen to take his place on the X-Files." 

I'll bet, Scully thought to herself grimly. 

She leaned forward to do some damage control. "As I understand it, Agent Mulder is planning on returning to the X-Files within the week." Keeping her tone cool and restrained, she added, "Possibly sooner." 

"And until then you are left without a partner, Agent Scully, and no one is available to sift through your caseload," Jeffrey pointed out helpfully, and Scully could have cheerfully throttled him. 

Kersh just stared at them, unblinking. Finally, he slapped the folder closed and indicated with a jerk of his head that Scully could leave. 

Scully resisted the overwhelming temptation to smack the smirk right off Jeffrey's face as she stalked out of the room. Scully knew she hadn't heard the last of this. If she recognized the look in Jeffrey Spender's eyes -- and she thought she did -- both she and Mulder were in for some trouble. 

* * *

'What time is it?' Skinner wondered nervously for what seemed like the millionth time. There was no clock in Doctor Werber's office, and he had forgotten his watch back at the condo. 

He was sitting on the other side of the room, just behind Dr. Werber, a kindly older gentlemen who genuinely seemed concerned about Mulder's well-being. Even so, Skinner had his arm draped over a chair -- like a coiled snake ready to pounce the instant his lover needed him. Skinner watched him intently, his face concerned. 

He'd kept a close eye on the entire hypnosis process, though he really didn't understand how it all worked. Now, though, he regarded his lover, as Mulder lay back in a chair, apparently quite calm and relaxed and he wished he felt that way. Mulder had given the doctor a quick but detailed account of his symptoms, but had carefully omitted the main cause of the recent upheaval in his life. 

"You're walking down a hallway," the doctor instructed, his voice smooth and calm. "There are lots of doors, so many doors you can't even count them all... and at the end of the hallway there is a special door; and behind that door is your memories." Werber paused for a moment, then continued, "Where are you?" 

"I'm home from school," Mulder said in a slow, dreamlike voice, sounding at once very old and very, very young. "I have to talk to mom." 

"Why?" 

"I have to find out what's going on," Mulder explained, still in that soft childish tone. "I have to know why she and dad are separating..." He suddenly stiffened. "No...no..." 

Skinner flashed worried eyes at Dr. Werber, who ignored him in favor of leaning forward and calmly telling his patient, "There's nothing to be afraid of. You're perfectly safe." He waited until Mulder was calm again, and then asked, "Where are you now?" 

"I-I'm in the hallway...going toward the bedroom..." 

"When you're ready I want you to open the door." 

Mulder nodded tentatively. 

"Is it open?" 

"Someone's in the room with her..." 

"All right. Are they talking loudly or softly?" 

"They're arguing...I have to go." 

"Go where?" 

"To my mom...she's crying..." The words came out in anguished gasps. "Mom?..." His voice changed, becoming angry, fearful. 

"What is the argument about? Try to tell me." The doctor paused for a moment, studying Mulder's twitching face. "Take your time, listen to the words and try to say them. The words can't hurt you." 

"She's upset...she's telling him she can't go through it again...She can't lose another...another..." While Mulder narrated what he was hearing he could see himself approaching the door, closer and closer. His hand reached out just as his mother cried, "I can't lose another child!" Mulder gasped. "Mom, what's wrong?" 

"What's happening now?" the doctor prompted, as Mulder continued to twitch and writhe, but without sound. 

"I can't see. I-I don't know. I can't see." Mulder's eyes were screwed tightly shut. 

"It's all right," Werber assured him. "I'm right here with you. These are just memories and memories are nothing to be afraid of. It's in the past, very far away." Dr. Werber's voice was gentle but firm. "What is happening when you open the door? Try to see." 

"Mom?" Mulder called out, sounding small and confused. "What's going on?" The words seemed almost forced from Mulder's lips. "Why is he shouting at her?" 

"Nothing's going to hurt you." But the doctor's reassurance seemed to have no effect as Mulder breathed heavily and his obvious confusion and distress was made evident by the hectic movement of his eyes behind his eyelids. 

Skinner had seen enough. "Okay you're not getting anything," he intervened in an urgent, whispered growl. "You've done what he asked so pull him out of it, now." 

"One more thing." The doctor swiftly said, holding up a warning hand as Mulder reacted to the sound of his lover's voice. They were at a crucial junction, and Werber knew it would be detrimental or Mulder to get confused now. He turned back to his patient when Skinner fell silent, and said, "Are your eyes open or closed?" 

"They're closed." 

"Open the door and open your eyes. What do you see?" 

Mulder's eyes opened wide. Slowly his head turned to his right and his face twisted with confusion and fear as he focused... 

...Suddenly he saw Spender glaring angrily at him and the old man's cold, hard voice echoed through his mind and erupted from Mulder's lips: "GO AWAY!" 

Skinner jumped to his feet, but Werber again held him back with one staying hand. "Listen to the sound of my voice," the doctor quickly commanded Mulder. "You're in the hallway. You're closing the door. I'm going to count backwards from five and when I get to one you're going to wake up feeling refreshed, but remembering everything you said." 

As the doctor counted down to one, Mulder's eyes flickered open and he gazed about the room in a daze. Skinner, his face flushed with worry, knelt by his side, and brushed back Mulder's hair in what he hoped was a soothing manner. "Fox, are you okay?" 

Mulder blinked, taking a few moments to focus on Skinner and his surroundings. "I'm fine, I'm fine." He nodded. "I wanted to do this, remember?" The agent glanced sheepishly over at the doctor. "Can I have a drink of water?" 

"Certainly." The older man stood up and poured Mulder a glass from a pitcher. 

Mulder accepted it gratefully, and after taking a long gulp, he turned, not to the doctor, but to his lover, and his tone was not the frightened child now, but the man, still a little scared, but ready to face his demons. "I remember -- it wasn't just a nightmare -- I remember seeing Spender, I remember being furious with him, I remember him arguing with my mother..." Taking a deep breath, he turned, held out his hand, and thanked the doctor. 

"I'm very glad I could help," Werber replied with a soft sincere smile. 

Skinner -- still frozen at the mention of Spender's name and the implications this could hold for Mulder -- shook himself back to life. He squeezed Mulder's arm as he looked up at Werber. "Well, what do you think, Doctor?" 

"I think Mr. Mulder is going to feel better about the memory loss partly because he did remember a few things and he knows that he has the tools and support to remember the rest." He offered a smile of encouragement to this man that he had immediately realized was not just Mulder's supervisor. 

"He's putting all of this on himself," Skinner commented worriedly. 

"No I'm not!" Mulder protested petulantly, but Dr. Werber nodded at Skinner. 

"I think that's true," he agreed. "If there's anything else that I can do, please let me know." He turned to Mulder and gave a reassuring smile to him. "I'm not ignoring you, Mulder. You know I'm speaking the truth as well as I do. And I want this man to know it too. He is here to help you, isn't he?" 

Mulder accepted the explanation - he knew the doctor was right - then accepted Walter's hand in his to help him to his feet. 

"Thank you, Dr. Werber. I'll be in touch," he said. 

* * *

The restaurant -- actually a small corner deli -- sat only two blocks away from the Hoover Building. The quaint eatery with its long formica counter, half-a-dozen window booths and pale blue decor was often filled with employees from FBI headquarters, and today was no exception. 

Mulder felt frustrated that he still didn't have all the answers. He thought returning to therapy might make him feel better, physically and emotionally, but in fact, he felt just as uneasy as he had last night, and even more nauseated. The implication of Spender arguing with his mother frightened him, especially remembering that they were fighting over her child. Had the bastard known about Faith? Mulder shuddered. 

The chicken sandwich before him looked delicious, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to eat. Mulder glanced across the table at Skinner who'd already polished off his burger and fries some time ago, wondering if his lover would comment, and suddenly feeling guilty for no good reason. 

Skinner knew that Mulder was still angry with himself and every attempt at consolation or light conversation had been ignored. With a heavy heart he happened to glance up at the TV hanging over the counter and a DVD ad caught his eye and gave him an idea. 

"The weekend's coming up," he kept his tone carefully casual. "What do you say to you and me holing up with a sci-fi movie marathon?" 

Mulder shrugged non-commitally, then he started to smile. The more he thought about Skinner's suggestion, the more he liked it. In fact, he thought as he picked up his sandwich, that sounded like exactly what he needed. 

"Just as long as you let me choose the movies," he said slyly, visions of DVDs, the big bed, a pint or two of ice cream and Skinner's arms round him danced in his head, and he found himself able to finish his lunch and grin broadly at Skinner. He really did feel better. 

Excusing himself for a "call of nature," Mulder pushed away from the table and sauntered toward the washroom. 

Skinner wiped at his mouth with a napkin, gazing after his lover. A slim red-headed agent suddenly obstructed his view. "Agent Scully," he said, rising to his feet. He held out his hand and gestured for her to take a seat. 

Dana gratefully accepted with a deep sigh. "Thank you, sir. I didn't expect to find you here. I was on my way over to your apartment, and saw the car out front." She looked around. "Where's Mulder?" 

"He'll be back in a second. We finished his session a little while ago." 

Scully blinked. "He's already been hypnotized? How did it go?" 

Taking a sip of iced tea, the A.D. cleared his throat before he said, "Fair. He remembered coming home years ago and finding his mother arguing with Spender." Even as he said it, Skinner wondered if he should be saying anything. But this was Scully... 

"Spender?" 

"Yeah, but that was about it. Do you think he's going to remember what really happened to cause his memory loss? Werber seemed confident, but Fox, well, not so much." 

"To be honest I'm beginning to think that Mulder was right all along and that his attacks are somehow connected to Faith," Scully replied while reaching forward to nab a pickle chip that Mulder had left on his plate. "I've never been a great proponent of hypno-therapy, but Mulder believes in it and it may be the only thing that can help him." She gave a pensive, far away look out the window. 

Skinner instantly registered the worried look in her blue eyes. "Agent Scully, is there something wrong?" 

As Scully was about to reply, a familiar husky voice broke in. "Hey, Scully," Mulder said, sliding into the booth beside her. "Are you here for the cholesterol special or what?" 

"Or what." Dana took a deep breath and debated on whether to tell her partner what had happened in Kersh's office. Reason tipped the scale over her concern for Mulder's mental state and she found herself describing the meeting before she'd realized she'd even started. 

Mulder seemed to take the news in stride. Either that or he was one hell of an actor, Scully thought. 

"So the little weasel wants my job -- big surprise," Mulder chuckled ironically under his breath. "What next?" 

Running a comforting hand across his shoulders, Scully could feel the tension building there. "Mulder, we can go over Kersh's head. The committee reopened and reassigned us both to the X-Files. They can't dismiss you because of your illness." 

Mulder muttered something that Scully didn't catch, but then both agents startled in their seats when Skinner slammed his fist down on the table top. 

"I am so tired of this shit! They'll do anything they damn well please to get you both booted from the X-Files," he told them, jumping angrily to his feet. "And I'm not about to let Spender get away with it!" With that, Skinner stormed past onlookers and out of the shop. 

"Sir, wait!" Scully called. 

"Walter!" Mulder cried urgently. Throwing some bills on the table he grabbed Scully's arm and they hurried after the boiling mad and thoroughly pissed Assistant Director. 

* * *

**PART SIX: CONVERSATIONS WITH THE ENEMY**

Jeffrey Spender was not a happy man. Ever since he'd been bumped down the ranks of the FBI pecking order, and relegated to the lowly task of wire tapping from a cramped office, his frustration had grown daily. And the focus of his increasing ire was one Special Agent Fox Mulder. Jeffrey hotly felt that the committee had made a grave error by assigning both Mulder and Scully back onto the re-opened X-Files. 

However, Jeffrey Spender _could_ be a happy man, especially if things worked out today. And he had no doubt that they would. As if on cue, the door of the office banged open. 

"Just give me a minute," A.D. Skinner growled over his shoulder to someone in the hall as he barged into the room like an overheated Sherman tank. He was immediately and disobediently followed by an out of breath Scully and a clearly concerned Mulder. 

A tall, dark haired woman with angular features stood up from behind another desk. "What's going on here?" Diana Fowley, Spender's partner, demanded in her usual chilly, clipped tone. 

Skinner halted before Spender's desk and bore down on the agent seated behind it. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" He didn't give Spender a chance to reply. I'm not going to let you get away with this. You are not going to take over the X-Files! So you can take your cheap suit, stupid ass haircut and that damned smirk and go manipulate something else," Skinner growled at Spender, jaw clenched so tightly he could feel it ache. The little squealer wanted nothing more than to ruin everything Mulder and Scully had worked for. 

Jeffrey merely scowled at the A.D. "I have no hidden agenda," he replied, standing and opening his hands in a peaceful gesture. "I only want to help." 

"Who, you?" Mulder scoffed, appearing by Skinner's side. "That is so funny I could cry." 

"He's only trying to antagonize you. It's a game." Scully kept a firm, but gentle grip on Mulder's arm. 

"Oh, I think he can take care of himself," Jeffrey observed, ignoring Skinner now and rising, hands on hips, to shoot Mulder a contemptuous glare. "You like to play games, don't you, Mulder?" 

"What? You're crazy." Mulder blew out his breath and shook his head. 

"You need to end this now," Agent Fowley warned her partner. 

Take a hike, ice queen, Scully thought. Dislike for the other woman boiled up inside her. "Why don't you stay out of this?" she told Diana sternly. She knew it was pointless to be catty, but it felt good. 

However, Spender ignored Fowley's advice and drove his point home, coming around the desk with a deceptively smooth grin on his face. "I'm getting tired of this new game, though, Mulder, your latest little act. How long were you planning to hide your squeeze?" 

To emphasize his point, Jeffrey looked pointedly at Mulder, then raised his eyebrows suggestively a couple of times at Skinner. 

With that knowing glance, Skinner lost it. He grabbed Spender's jacket lapels and shoved him around until Jeffrey hit the wall with a thud. "You mess with Mulder one more time and I'm coming after you, Spender!" He knew exactly what Spender was alluding to, and worse, what he intended to do with his suspicions. He'd known for a while that he and his lover would have to face the truth about their relationship being revealed sometime. 

"Careful, Assistant Director," Jeffrey spat, attempting to shake the larger man off. "Even empty threats can come back to haunt you." 

Diana Fowley stepped between them once again. "If you want us all -- including Mulder -- spending the rest of the day looking for new jobs just keep this up," she told Skinner in a cool, even voice. "This is the FBI in case you've forgotten, not some cheap pool hall. Someone's bound to call security." 

Mulder cut his eyes at her. Despite their past, he knew that she was right. "Let's go," he urged Walter. 

"No. I'm not going anywhere until I settle this." Before Skinner could deck the guy, Scully and Mulder swarmed around him, yanking him away. 

Mulder could see Spender's jaw working. So let him be pissed, he thought grimly. I've got bigger things to worry about. 

Skinner leaned in to whisper one more warning into Spender's ear. "Just so you know," he promised through gritted teeth, "whatever pain Mulder goes through because of what you're doing will be nothing compared with what I'll put you through. Understand?" 

Jeffrey held Skinner's stare for a long moment. Skinner was certain he saw a flicker of fear pass across the other man's narrowed eyes, and he could feel the lean man's muscles thrumming under his hands. 

But Spender wasn't going to back down. 

"Mulder's not fit to handle the X-Files any longer, and you know it. Someone will either replace him or they'll be shut down -- permanently. It's your choice," Jeffrey informed them, then added, "I'm not the enemy here. I never was." His voice was seductively smooth, but Mulder wasn't fooled. 

"Don't -- do not listen to him. We'll all live to regret it," he stammered angrily as he and Scully pulled Skinner toward the door. "Come on, let's get out of here." 

Out in the hallway, with a slammed door between him and Spender, Skinner wiped his brow, shook his head, and rubbed at the back of his neck. "I shouldn't have snapped like that," he admitted. 

"That's all right," Mulder assured him with a small appreciative grin and a shrug. "If you hadn't done it, I would have." 

But Skinner was not to be put off. "No, I've gone and made things worse by giving him ammunition." He drew in his breath sharply. "You didn't need this, Fox. You've been through a--" 

"Don't say it." Mulder increased the smile, trying to get one back, and Scully stepped toward the older man. "You should go home," she gently suggested. "I think Mulder will agree with me on this -- we don't want you to take the fall for us." 

"It's okay," Skinner said, staring uneasily at the office door. 

"No, it's not," Mulder insisted, picking up on Scully's cue. "He wants to take _us_ down, not you. Please, let's just go." The agent gave Skinner's arm a meaningful squeeze. 

After a moment, Skinner nodded reluctantly. 

While back inside the office, Spender -- looking affronted--brushed down his suit and tried to straighten out the creases made by Skinner's powerful hands. 

"He messed up my tie," he muttered. 

Crossing her arms, Diana approached the younger man and said, "Why did you push him so far? You push and you push and then you're surprised when someone pushes back. Why don't you just let it go?" 

"Because I had to know exactly where things stand. And now...now I know." 

* * *

"This is not your fault," Mulder assured Skinner for the umpteenth time as they breezed inside the condo apartment. 

Having left the Hoover building, the two men had parted ways with Scully, who informed them that she was heading out to pay Faith a visit after work. 

"Are you sure about that?" Skinner skeptically asked while closing the door behind him. "I sense a really big "but" coming up here." 

"Walter, I'm really sick of playing duck and cover with my life. If the truth about us -- you and me -- has to come out, then fine. I don't care what happens to me, I just don't want Spender destroying your career along with mine." 

Skinner sighed deeply. He rested his hands on Mulder's shoulders and looked at him with love and concern in his eyes. "Why don't you let me handle this? I'll try -- though I'm not promising anything -- but I will try to be discreet." 

Mulder smiled endearingly at his lover. "It's my problem, big guy. I'll handle it." 

"You're still on extended leave, baby," Skinner said, really hating to remind him of that fact. "How are you gonna handle it?" 

"Baby?" 

Skinner just grinned. 

"Okay, I'm not one-hundred-percent Special Agent Guy," Mulder confessed, "but I'm also not gonna sit around on my ass while junior tries to take me out. I've worked too hard for this." 

Skinner's grin intensified. "You're kind of incredible, you know that?" 

"Me, incredible?" said Mulder innocently. He thought for a second, then shrugged and threw Skinner his cockiest smile. "I've never really thought about it...I suppose I am!" 

It had been a long and trying day, and a nice hot shower was just the ticket Walter wanted to buy. A part of him, mostly around his heart, wanted to protest and remain wrapped around his lover for the rest of the evening, but he knew he really needed to cool off for a while and decided it was probably better for Mulder to occupy himself and gather his thoughts. Better for himself, too. 

As he felt tense muscles begin to relax immediately under the steaming water, Skinner couldn't help remembering the confrontation with Jeffrey Spender, and although the warm water was soothing, Walter could feel himself starting to get a little incensed all over again and so he finished up with a twenty-second blast of cold water that both shocked and calmed him. As a tension reliever, he didn't suppose it would ever replace valium, but it worked, and that's all that mattered to him. 

Stepping out of the tub, Skinner wrapped a damp towel around his waist, padded barefoot into the bedroom, and stopped in surprise at the sight waiting for him. 

Mulder was seated on the edge of the bed, stripped down to forest-green boxer-briefs. Walter paused for a moment to survey the scene. The mini-blinds and sliding glass door were closed against the afternoon sun, except for a slit wide enough to let in a gentle breeze. On the nightstand, Mulder had found and lit a candle that gave off a fragrant scent of vanilla. Next to the candle was a little glass vial of oil floating in a larger bowl of warm water. And beside it sat a small, white fluffy towel. He also noticed that there were several condoms strewn about on the nightstand. And there was Mulder, with an absolutely devilish smile animating his face. 

"What's all this?" Skinner asked, wearing a bemused grin as he took in the scene. 

"I didn't think a shower would be enough for you," Mulder replied matter-of-factly. "So after a little investigating and a little search and seizure, I found exactly what I needed, to give you what I think you need." He stood, still smiling, and his arms encircled Skinner as he kissed his lover's neck. "I am going to give my absolutely best shot at easing away all of your tension," he whispered. 

The older man's knees began to weaken as he started to imagine what Mulder had in mind. "Oh, Agent Mulder, what did I do to deserve you?" 

As Mulder unwrapped the towel from around Skinner's waist and lightly stroked the hair on his lover's chest, he answered Walter's question with a laugh, "Walter Skinner, you're my hero." Then softer, more serious, "...my hero..." 

Mulder's sultry voice, as well as his words, turned the older man on incredibly. As Mulder held the towel away from Skinner's body, he guided his lover gently toward the bed and Walter fell back on it with a sigh. 

The A.D. realized that what he wanted more than anything else was to feel Mulder's wet lips around his cock and the agent's marvelous tongue driving him inexorably toward orgasm immediately. 

But Mulder had other ideas. He took the towel from the nightstand, folded the cloth, and placed it over Skinner's eyes telling the older man, quietly, to relax. 

Skinner's cock with its prodigious glans stayed as hard as ever, even as he tried to will the rest of his body to relax. The sweetness of the vanilla-scented candle seemed to be having a strange, calming effect on him, and finding himself deprived of vision, he started to float in his mind; he was only dimly aware of the sound of Mulder opening the vial of warm oil. 

Mulder rubbed the oil into his own hands and then he moved down the bed and he began to massage Skinner's body sensuously with his oil-slickened palms. 

"Oh, God, Fox, that feels good," Skinner murmured as Mulder expertly worked the A.D.'s broad shoulders with his fingers, his thumbs, and his knuckles, pressing and releasing knot after knot of tense muscle. 

After ten minutes of this pure heaven, Mulder oiled his hands again and moved down to begin work on Skinner's calves and shins. He bent the other man's legs slightly at the knees to give himself better access. Skinner began to half moan, half hum as Mulder worked deeper and deeper, easing the tension from stiff muscles. 

Soon, the agent made his way back up Skinner's legs to the older man's equally tight and muscled inner thighs. After stroking Walter's thighs for a minute or two, he raised the A.D.'s legs and placed Skinner's ankles on his shoulders as he rested on the bed. Skinner gave Mulder a deep moan for his efforts and splayed his knees wider to give his lover's wonderful, supple hands better access to his inner thighs. 

Time didn't seem to exist for Walter Skinner as he laid there with a cloth covering his eyes, his every tension being manipulated and soothed away by his handsome lover. 

Silently, soothingly, Mulder moved from muscle to muscle. Skinner sighed, moaned, and welcomed each new site for Mulder's hands as the tension rushed out from his body with every deep breath. 

Mulder explored up and around and then down Skinner's toned body. Whenever he sensed that his lover was drifting too far off in the luxury of his hands, he would ignite Skinner again with a few brief, light strokes on the older man's turgid, straining cock. Never enough to make him come, but always enough to make the A.D. writhe and groan some more. 

After what felt to Skinner like a lifetime, or the blink of an eye, Mulder paused. He stood and Skinner heard him remove his shorts. Walter raised the towel from his eyes to take in the glorious sight of Mulder's swollen cock. Hmm...now that's just what I need, he thought and smiled to himself. 

Then Mulder laid himself down beside his lover, draping his lithe body all along Skinner's side, and Walter was pleased to feel the younger man's hard cock press against his thigh. Mulder leaned in close to his ear and whispered, "I hope you enjoyed the first act, 'cause I'm about to give you a repeat performance." 

Skinner breathed in deeply as, instead of using his hands, Mulder now used his lips and his tongue, following the path of relaxed muscles he had created earlier. Skinner's cock twitched with anticipation from the soft and silky caresses of Mulder's mouth. Precum, which had been making Skinner's cock slick ever since Mulder began, started to drip to a spot just below the older man's navel. Every so often, Mulder would pause to lick the sweet wetness from Skinner's abs then take his time to taste it directly from his lover's cock itself, a process which drove both men even wilder. 

After working Skinner's inner thighs with his warm lips and wet tongue, Mulder began to lick the other man's length until he'd slowly taken it all inside his mouth. Soon, Mulder's fingers, still slippery from the oil, were finding their way to the flesh below Skinner's sac and making concentric circles around his puckered hole. 

Gasping for breath, Skinner stumbled over words and pleas of desire: "Oh, Jesus, ...oh, oh, Fox. Please...please..." 

Mulder chuckled a little, clearly enjoying the effect his ministrations were having on Skinner. He continued moving upward with his lips and tongue, a sweet wet soft assault on every part of the larger man's body. 

When he reached Skinner's chest, he devoted extra special attention to the nipples, flicking the erect nubs with his tongue, sucking on them, and nibbling until Skinner cried out, demanding to have his lover inside of him. Finally, Mulder placed a condom on his cock and he stroked Skinner's own shaft while entering his lover's firm behind. 

Mulder plunged deeply inside of Skinner with grunts and moans of pleasure. He leaned forward and kissed each of the other man's eyelids in turn before covering Skinner's mouth with his own. Before long, the younger man's body started to contract with orgasm and his lover soon followed as Skinner exploded in wave after wave of shuddering convulsions. 

And then, Mulder fell forward into Skinner's strong embrace. Both men - wet with sweat, oil and kisses -- free of anxiety, now held one another in wonderful exhaustion as they drifted off into a light nap. 

* * *

The sun had just set; the last traces of deep orange and magenta were still barely visible across the river, along the horizon. 

The wind whistled, gently gusting through the willow trees whose limbs stretched gracefully over the calm surface of the water accompanied by the glowing reflections of lamps ringed alongside the bike path. 

Clouds parted. The moon appeared and its light spilled over a nearby gazebo, casting a soft silvery sheen onto Alex Krycek's dark hair. 

Alex breathed in the cool evening air and felt an alien sense of calm wash over him. He rested his good hand on the intricately carved railing and let the atmosphere clear his mind and at the same time focus his thoughts. But like the whispering wind tugging at his hair, he could feel the images in his head wanting to waft away. 

This was the perfect place to meet Faith Matthews again, he decided. He found himself thinking of Faith far more than he should have been, definitely more than he would have ever admitted -- he knew how risky the situation could become if the young man learned the truth. 

His lips drew back in a soft, brief, and dark chuckle for just a split second at that thought. He was the reckless one... 

"Well, I'd never have expected to find you here," croaked a voice from the darkness. 

Alex startled and spun round. Normally poised to move at all times, he'd become careless and had not heard the approaching footsteps. His eyes narrowed as he scowled into the darkness. 

The strikes of flint on steel, a spark, and then the flame from a lighter illuminated the worn, craggy features of CGB Spender. He sat on the gazebo bench regarding Krycek coolly. Alex stared at him, astonished. How had Spender known he was meeting Faith here? 

"What are you doing here?" Krycek demanded, angered by Spender's presence and irritated that he'd broken a rare moment of peaceful introspection. 

"So touchy." Spender returned the lighter to his overcoat pocket. "That's not like you at all, Alex." He regarded the Russian curiously. "Could it be that our young Mr. Matthews has turned your head?" 

"You know, that's what you would think," Krycek shot back angrily. 

"If that is the case, then you're not being very smart," the older man told him. "I'm the one who taught you how to handle yourself." 

Alex stared at him. Spender's soul -- if he had one left -- was black and he knew how to hurt people. And Alex Krycek also knew how to hurt people. It was frightening how easy it had been to learn. And even more frightening, how impossible it was to forget. 

Krycek gritted his teeth and turned away from the man to fix his eyes back on the river. Like himself, it was no longer placid and calm. The restless water lapped against the shore in a frantic rush. 

"I'll do things in my own way, in my own time, without any help from you," Alex retorted sharply. He gripped the railing with his right hand until his knuckles turned white. 

Spender gave him a cool smile and stepped toward him in a cloud of smoke. "Don't forget why you're here. You've already made the first move. When will you make the second? When--" 

"When I feel like it!" Krycek snapped, cutting him off. 

"You wait until you 'feel like it' and you won't have any time left," the old man shot back. 

Alex's green eyes blazed. "You go to hell!" he shouted, whirling back around, his patience completely gone. He marched to the other side of the gazebo, wishing suddenly and spitefully that a set of stairs would appear that he could toss the old bastard down. Barring that, he wished the man would just disappear in a puff of his own rancid smoke. 

Spender must have found Krycek's words ironic for a slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Hell can't handle me," he remarked, then regarded Krycek with a dangerous seriousness. "Now you, you get out there and do something before Mulder finds you and either kills you or drags you off to prison." 

Blood boiling, knowing he was being almost irrational about this but feeling unable to stop himself, Krycek clenched his fist and rounded on the man with a sharp retort poised on his lips as he strode forward. 

"Alex?" 

He froze in his tracks as he heard Faith's voice calling to him from the semi-darkness. Alex glanced worriedly over his shoulder and he felt his heartbeat jump. No, he thought, Faith can't find me here with-- 

He turned back. His wish had come true. Spender, slippery snake that he was, had disappeared. 

"Hey, you okay?" asked Faith, concerned. 

Alex found the younger man standing on the gazebo steps wearing a dark silk shirt, tight jeans that must have been painted on, and a worried little frown. Krycek glanced back at the water and tried to compose himself. Damn Spender! he thought. Damn him right to hell! 

Alex, Faith noticed, was not smiling. In fact, his face was flushed and he was casting his eyes about the park, looking both anxious and angry. Faith moved closer. Cocking his head to one side he said, "Hey, you look like you've just seen a ghost." He winced at the deep scowl he saw creasing the other man's handsome features. With Alex so tense, he decided to lighten the mood. "It wouldn't be the first time for me," Faith riffed, laying a hand to the side of his mouth. 

"Faith, I--" Krycek faltered. 

"All right, I'm no detective, but I can tell that something's got ya worried. Is it your friend?" he ventured, recalling why Alex was at the hospital earlier. "You know, where I come from, if ya got troubles, you talk to someone." 

Alex blew out air that he swore tasted smoky, and fixed the young man with an intense gaze. 

"I'm not just bein' nice here," Faith quickly added with a wave of his hand and a bright smile. 

"Things are just...problematic," Krycek told him after a long moment. 

Faith thought he detected a wary note in the other man's voice. "You know, I've got a great big dictionary at home," he said as he stepped closer to Alex, "and that's one of those twenty dollar words that nobody knows what it really means." 

Alex's eyes softened. "It means I can't go into it right now," he said with a shrug, turning his face away, as if he'd just suddenly realized that his emotions were still visible, and they weren't particularly welcoming. 

Faith was still watching him with a keen eye. Maybe he just doesn't want anyone to see his sensitive side, he thought. But it was a side he definitely knew he could learn to like. 

"Hey, come here!" Faith took his hand and Krycek, startled at first, let the other man lead him back to the railing. "Okay, what do you think of that?" 

Alex decided to play along and asked, "Of what?" 

"Just look up." 

Alex sighed deeply and nodded. Still, he hesitated to peer up at that dark blanket. Darkness had become his constant enemy ever since those long, hellish months spent trapped inside that accursed bunker. But, oddly enough, at this moment, he didn't feel cold or afraid. Quite the opposite, in fact. 

"C'mon, look," Faith encouraged him. 

Alex did and, despite his trepidation, he felt his breath literally taken away. Instead of the darkness he expected to find, the sky was painted with a spattering of bright stars. It instantly sent him hurtling back to childhood nights when he'd sat on the roof of his house and the sky was so clear and so full of stars that he'd actually tried to reach out and touch them. He closed his eyes and remembered a boy who wasn't afraid of what the stars held. 

"See," Faith's voice shook him from his memories, "you, me, and a problem that just got smaller." 

Alex's eyes popped back open. To his surprise, he felt a smile playing across his lips. 

Faith grinned back. He allowed himself a moment to unabashedly appreciate the other man's dark hair and long-lashed green eyes as Alex gazed at him and moved closer. 

Holy moly, I think he's gonna kiss me! Faith thought as he held his breath. 

A sudden giggle broke the moment. Alex glanced up and Faith looked over his shoulder at the annoyance. Two young women, bundled up in fluffy sweaters and coats, were whispering and giving the two men coyish winks as they passed by the gazebo. 

"Hmm," Faith groaned without a trace of subtlety. He nudged Alex. "I think they were givin' ya the eye." 

"Not my type," Alex murmured, taken aback by Faith's disapproving tone. Krycek sat down on the bench and shrugged good-naturedly. "Ah well, that's the story of my life." 

"Oh, yeah, sure," Faith gently teased as he came over to sit beside him. "Cry me a river. Mr. Handsome and Smart. I bet you had a line waitin' for ya wherever you came from." 

Alex blinked and said softly, "And yet here I am." 

"Me, too." 

Krycek couldn't explain it, but he genuinely felt better. As if the specter of Spender had never been here at all. "Faith, I don't know," he laughed, "if you keep on like this I'm gonna have to find a better way than a card to thank you." 

"The card," gasped Faith, his eyes widening. "Oh gosh, I've been running my mouth off like a jukebox here! Thank you so much. It was beautiful..." 

"Faith, look, I'd still really like to take you out for dinner." 

"Oh..." Faith's face grew warm. "I thought you were just bein' polite." His smile widened. "You know like 'let's do lunch' or somethin'..." 

Alex shook his dark head. "No, no, no. I wrote it down. I signed it." He made an adorable signing motion in the air with his hand. 

Faith caught his breath. "Yes, you did...on that nice, beautiful card." 

His dreamy-eyed look gave way to a frown of concentration as he flashed back onto the slip of paper Fox Mulder had given him. 'It's not a birth certificate,' Mulder had told him, 'but it's close.' The signature of the nun who had witnessed his birth and kept the secret of his true identity all these years floated before his eyes. 

'Get out there and ask questions,' Agent Scully had advised him. His heart gave a hard thump, and he stared off into the distance for a minute, his features creasing into a determined scowl. 

Krycek, unaware of what was going on in the other man's mind, leaned forward. "I wouldn't have written it if I hadn't meant it," he said, surprising himself with his gentle words. 

Faith nodded. "Oh, I know," he said, his voice taking on a hard edge. "But there is somebody out there who would sign just about anything and not give a rip." He suddenly turned back to Alex, jumping up on his feet. "Hey, you know what? I gotta go!" 

"Oh?" Krycek tried to quell his sudden, sharp disappointment. 

Faith made another abrupt turn as he made his way down the gazebo steps. He hadn't forgotten gorgeous Alex's dinner invitation not for one second. "Hey, I want you to make reservations for someplace nice," he suggested with glittering eyes and a wave of his hand. 

"All right." Alex grinned, curious and intrigued by the young man's mysterious smile. 

Faith thought, If my hunch pays off I'm gonna have a lot to celebrate! 

* * *

**PART SEVEN: WRONG ANSWERS TO QUESTIONS YOU NEVER ASKED**

Dana Scully had a feeling - intuition, maybe, Although she would have denied it had Mulder been with her - that something was definitely wrong. This thought stayed with her while she hurried up a flight of stairs and onto the next level of the Three Oaks apartment complex.

Making her way to Apartment Thirteen, she silently analyzed exactly the persistent feeling of "wrongness" she was having. She had not heard a word from Faith since their agreement two days ago, and, knowing that he had been planning to leave soon, she feared Mulder's new-found brother had decided not to hold up his end of the bargain.

A grotesque image of the virus victim she and Mulder had discovered hidden away in a Texas military base flashed before her eyes.

It was a horrible thought, Scully realized, but thinking the worst was typical of her overtaxed mind this past week. She had to admit that she had become so stressed that she was turning hostile toward anyone unlucky enough to cross her path. The truth was she was deeply worried about both Mulder and Faith and wouldn't be able to unwind until she believed that they were both all right.

The red-haired agent paused to take a breath before buzzing the doorbell. She was greeted not by Faith, but by his bubbly friend Maggie. Maybe "bubbly" wasn't the right adjective this time, though, Scully thought as she caught the scowl Ms. Shelton gave her.

However, Scully had questioned not only far more people than she cared to remember at this time, but far more dangerous at that, and frankly, right this second, she just wasn't in the mood.

"Faith's not here, lady," Maggie told her tersely, attempting to close the door in her face, but Scully quickly pressed a palm against it and firmly held it open.

Lady? Scully narrowed her eyes. Okay, she wasn't exactly nineteen, but "lady" was still on the distant horizon, thank you very much.

"I think you might know where he is," the agent said, all cold steel business.

"Who, me?" Maggie shrugged innocently and shook her blond hair, still struggling with the door.

"Who, me?" Scully mimicked. "Yes, I mean you," Scully shoved hard on the door, plunging inside the apartment to confront Maggie face to face. "Where's Faith?"

Maggie stepped back, bristling like a wet cat at Scully's tone, and feeling defensive of her best friend and not appreciating the questioning. But uncomfortable under Scully's ice blue scrutiny, she started rambling, "Look, uh, he came in, said something about taking care of something important - no, I don't remember exactly what - grabbed a bag, then zipped right back out again."

"He left?" Scully exhaled so deeply that her breath ruffled the red locks framing her face. Apparently ditching red-heads was a genetic trait shared by siblings, Scully grumbled to herself, remembering far too many Mulder scenarios just like this one. What on earth was Faith playing at? She thought she'd made it clear how much potential danger the young man was in.

Cringing, Maggie spoke up. "Listen, if I know Faith he'll probably be back in a flash. I'll have him call you." Hoping that the Fibbie would take the hint, Maggie scooted around the petite agent to hold the door open as a not-so-subtle signal to leave, but Scully ignored the hint.

"Hey, woah, slow down." Hands on hips, Scully gave the young woman another direct-in-the-eye-I'm-not-playing-around-here glare. "I dare you to tell me what's on my mind." Maggie started to protest, but clamped her mouth shut as soon as Scully cut in, "Well, I'll tell you. When you hear from Faith again, you tell him that he's got two choices: he either contacts me immediately, or I'm going to contact him, even if that means following his ass all the way to Boston if I have to. And guess what? I won't be playing nice. I'll take him into custody if I have to - it's what we Feds do, y'know." Her grin was cold, and Maggie didn't doubt her for a moment.

* * *

That night, Mulder woke up with a start, uncertain what had roused him.

He reached out and felt around for his watch on the nightstand. Finding it, he turned the illuminated dial toward his face. It was a few minutes past eleven.

He turned and made out the dim shape of his lover, sleeping soundly behind him.

Shadows danced and turned in soft pirouettes around his slumbering frame. Skinner's legs had formed the shape of a number four, while one of his brawny arms had unconsciously slung itself protectively over Mulder's chest.

A lopsided grin, then a wince of pain chased across the younger man's features. He'd found the answer. This was no mere case of regular insomnia, but another splitting headache.

Gently lifting Skinner's arm and placing it at his lover's side, Mulder got out of bed and walked across the room to the open window. He breathed deeply as cool night air shifted the curtains, and the slight breeze didn't even begin to clear his head.

He shut his eyes and before he knew what was happening, the session with Dr. Werber came flooding back into his mind: the images of himself back in the hallway at home, hearing the raised voices coming from behind a closed door that he himself was reaching out for. With this came the same overwhelming feelings of fear, confusion, anger and trepidation.

The ache behind his eyes intensified.

Mulder went out into the hallway, padded downstairs, and pushed open the sliding glass door. He stepped out onto the balcony.

The air was cooler.

He sighed and rolled his shoulders and felt the tension start to ease a bit. Mulder stared down at the murky street softly lit by intermittent lamp lights below.

He frowned.

Something flickered just on the edge of his vision. He peered into the darkness.

He gasped. The night blasted away before him in a blaze of white light. Mulder found himself transfixed in a blinding shaft of light, unable to move, unable to cry out...

A soft whimper trembled out from between his lips.

The light winked out, but the feeling of helplessness and immobility remained. It was dark again. He could hear murmured voices all around him, though he didn't recognize them. Then, as sudden as it had become dark, a little light appeared.

A tall man, wearing a surgical mask tight across his face, leaned in close. His cold, gray eyes peered through strange blue-tinted glasses, boring their way straight into Mulder-

"Mulder," Skinner said.

The agent's eyes snapped open. He found himself holding tight to the balcony railing with streams of sweat dripping through his damp hair and running down his flushed cheeks.

Skinner, awakened by Mulder's absence, had quickly searched the apartment, seen his lover on the balcony, and immediately bolted to the man's side. A worried frown, not the first one by a long shot, was making a permanent crease between his brows. "Fox, come back in," he said quietly, drawing Mulder into the living room and pulling the door closed behind them. Then, less softly: "What the hell were you doing out there?"

"I've been...I had..." Mulder stammered, but finally managed to gasp out, "I've been remembering again."

"Fox, hey, it's okay," Skinner pulled his lover close, felt both their heartbeats racing against one another, and wondered who he was really trying to reassure.

Mulder shook his head stubbornly, although he didn't move back from his lover, instead, grasping Skinner's arms tightly, he excitedly said, "I-I have to tell you all of it before I forget!"

* * *

Traffic swirled and raced, dirty yellow cabs chased one another, and people went about their daily shopping and business unaware that they were passing by the headquarters of the Consortium, an unremarkable building by New York's standards.

Dark curtains composed mostly of velvet and dust were draped over the upper story windows, blocking even the most stubborn rays of the receding sunlight from the gloomy meeting room. Small halogen banker lamps softly lit everyone present, revealing a collection of men dressed from neck to foot in rich, tailored suits.

The Elders, select members of the Consortium, a handful of men who had been conspiring together since the 1940's, were gathered to discuss a perplexing new development.

"How is it possible that Fox Mulder has a brother?" A rotund man with a gravely voice and silver hair posed the question to the room.

CGB Spender, ignoring a glass of Napoleon brandy sitting before him on the highly polished table, shifted his weight as casually as possible while at the same time keeping a freshly-lit Morley burning between his fingers. The question which hung heavier in the air than the smoke he exhaled was nothing compared to the one plaguing his mind: How had the Elders learned about Faith Matthews so quickly

A troubling thought wormed its way into his subconscious: Had Krycek betrayed him? Slipping behind his back to report to the others?

No, he wouldn't dare. Next to Fox Mulder, Alex Krycek's head on a platter was the most sought after prize for the Elders. After meeting Krycek last night, Spender was certain he'd taken the right steps to find out exactly who Faith really was, where he'd come from, and if this new, unforeseen element could be construed as a threat.

"Well, Charles?" A distinguished Tunisian accent cut through his musings faster than a hot blade through butter.

"I have someone already on it," Spender replied with a reasserted air of calm. He flicked a stem of growing embers into a nearby ashtray. "I assure you the situation will be taken care of."

* * *

"'Scuse me...Pardon me...Watch it, sister...Yeah, hi!"

Cutting to the front of the queue, Faith slapped his airline ticket down on a counter right in front of an attendant who wore arrogance like it was part of her polyester uniform.

"Sir, this flight will be departing tomorrow at Gate B-11," the young woman said with an air of superiority and a look that suggested she had better things to do than explain how a plane ticket worked to some pushy kid.

"I don't have time for Bingo," Faith smarted, hefting a carryall over his shoulder. "What I need is to trade in this ticket," he impatiently added, thrusting said ticket back under her nose.

"I can't do that," was the frosty reply.

"Oh, I think you can. I got one good nerve left, lady, and you're gettin' on it, so unless you get the ticket changed in the next three seconds, I start screamin'. What's your preference? "Mom, what are you doin' here?" or just plain "murder"?!"

They regarded each other angrily.

"For what destination, sir?"

"Newark, New Jersey." He grinned winningly at the attendant. "And make it fast."

* * *

The next morning Skinner was playing nursemaid to Mulder, who was still suffering from a pounding headache. He was slumped on the sofa, cradling his head in his hands.

"What I don't understand," Skinner said as he shifted the melting ice pack on Mulder's neck, "is why your memories are coming back in bits and pieces and having this effect on you."

"It's hard to explain," Mulder said with a painful shrug.

"Do you think it's connected to your brother?" Walter asked suddenly. Mulder's face must have reflected the surprise he felt, because Skinner quickly added, "I mean I hate to bring up a sore subject, but I can't help but wonder if what you remembered last night has something to do with Faith and the danger he could still be in."

"And I thought I was the reigning master of the conspiracy theory." Mulder gave a dry laugh, then winced. "Honestly, I don't know."

"Fox, I don't like sitting around watching you suffer." Skinner sighed. "I don't do it well. If I could get my hands on something solid to fight, I'd pummel it until the pain you're going through stopped."

Mulder raised his head to kiss his lover lightly on the cheek. "My tough guy," he said with a small smile. "I'd feel a whole hell of a lot better if I could just find the answers to these questions banging around inside my head," he grumbled.

Skinner was about to give him what he hoped would be soothing words of comfort and encouragement when the doorbell rang.

Mulder took a deep, cleansing breath and smirked, "You'd better get that. Could be another long-lost relative."

The A.D. snorted, appreciating his lover's attempt at humor. He tossed the ice pack on the coffee table and Mulder followed him into the foyer. They opened the door on a very frazzled Scully.

"Mulder, have you seen Faith?" she asked breathlessly.

"Why? What's going on?" Alarmed, Skinner stood back while the red-haired agent hustled inside.

Mulder tensed, immediately on edge at the concern in her voice. "Not since I saw him at the hospital yesterday," he replied, rubbing the sudden chill from the back of his neck that had nothing to do with the ice pack.

"That's what I thought," Scully muttered grimly. She could see a vein start to throb in Mulder's temple. The last thing her partner needed was more stress, so Scully changed the topic slightly. "How did things go between you two?"

"Fair. I don't know what you said to him, but I think he's gonna be okay, unless..." He paused and peered intently into Scully's blue eyes. "...there's something you know that you're not telling me."

"Agent Scully, I think-" Skinner started to interject, but then the phone started ringing. Catching his lover's raised eyebrows - a clear Mulder-signal that he was determined to learn everything and nobody was going to stop him - Walter cleared his throat and finished, "I'll get that."

After the A.D. moved into the hall to answer the phone, Mulder, his concern now quickly segueing into full-on worry, fixed his gaze back on his partner. "Come on, Scully," he prompted her. "We've always been nothing but straight with each other. Why are you so worried about my brother? What haven't you been telling me?"

Scully sighed. Understanding that Mulder had a right to know, she said, "Faith was supposed to meet me yesterday so that I could take another sample of his blood."

"Let me guess? He never showed, huh?"

Scully noted that he didn't seem surprised. "No, he didn't. I went over to the apartment where he's been staying and, apparently, at least according to his friend Maggie, he's run off to who-knows-where."

Sure, he was still new to this having a younger brother idea, but Faith did not match the personality or profile of someone who would run away. "You don't think Faith would just leave-" Mulder started.

"I don't know what to think anymore."

"But what if-" Mulder pursed his lips into a tight line as the grim reality that someone had gone to an awful lot of trouble to break into the FBI lab just to steal Faith's blood hit him.

Sensing where his train of thought was heading, Scully was swift to advise him, "Don't jump to conclusions just yet." She gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.

"Mulder."

They both looked up when Skinner waved the phone from the hallway. "Dr. Werber's on the phone." Skinner pushed up his glasses, then added, "He says he's got something."

"Mulder, what's he talking about?" Scully arched a concerned eyebrow as she took her partner aside. "Why is your therapist calling you?"

Now who's not telling everything, she silently wondered.

"Yeah, uh," Mulder began somewhat sheepishly, "I called Dr. Werber last night to see if there was anything else he could come up with to help trigger my memory." There was an anxious look in his eyes. "I'm hoping he's got some ideas."

Knowing her concerns could wait, she nudged him toward Skinner. "Well, you better go find out." She followed, and rooted herself firmly within listening distance, and Mulder felt a brief surge of gratefulness at his friend's support.

Mulder moved quickly to take the call, only to find Skinner already engaged in a deep conversation with his therapist.

"Are you sure there are no risks?" the older man barked into the phone and Mulder smiled softly at his lover's perpetual concern for him. Skinner listened for a moment, made a grunting sound of assent, then handed the portable over to Mulder.

"Doc, what have you got?" the agent asked, and the need and stress in his voice was not lost on his doctor, nor on his friend and lover hovering nearby.

"This is new," Werber replied, sounding confident, "but has achieved some good results in trials." Then, more seriously, "a technique we could use just once."

"And it would get my memory back?" inquired a hopeful Mulder, his mind more on the answers than on the procedure.

"I think there's a chance."

Mulder listened as his therapist outlined the procedure. He flashed a look at Skinner, and Walter instantly recognized the excitement he saw shining in those hazel eyes, sparking with green-gold flecks.

"You would be fully awake," Werber continued, "but your brain would think that you were in a deep sleep."

"Because of this device you would use?" Mulder followed.

"Yes, it simulates REM sleep and, as you know, that is the period of the sleep cycle when the brain dreams, but it's also the period where the brain can more easily retrieve memories."

Mulder's voice took on a more urgent tone, "It's very important that I remember what happened to cause these attacks - M-my breakdown. I need to remember and fast." He listened for a moment, turned to Walter, who was gazing at him expectantly, and gave him a thumbs up and a hopeful smile. "Let's schedule that session."

* * *

She sat in the midst of the airport terminal hidden by swarms of passengers and their loved ones moving throughout the building. Her eyes ignored the faceless, streaming mass and remained stealthily focused on one person in particular: Faith Matthews.

After a thirty-minute wait, the PA system squealed briefly, and a male gate-attendant's voice came over the speaker announcing that preboarding of flight 1013 to New Jersey would begin.

She watched as Faith gathered his carryall, got up, and took his place in line. The tall, handsome young man bounced from foot to foot impatiently in the airport corridor as he looked out at the plane that was connected to the gate by a long jetway. Baggage handlers scurried about below, loading the cargo hold.

She swiftly took out her cell phone and punched in a memorized number. Spender's gruff voice answered on the other end.

"Faith Matthews has booked a flight for New Jersey," she informed him, turning away just as the person in question absently looked in her direction. "I think you're right about Krycek," she added pointedly.

"All right," Spender replied seriously, "don't lose Mr. Matthews."

Nodding to herself, she switched off the phone and replaced it in her sleek black coat pocket. Taking out an airline ticket, she folded her arms and stayed just far enough away as Faith made his way toward the jetway.

* * *

Perfect, very good. Typical Garden State. Welcome home, Faith.

It was midafternoon, but from the gray look of things, it might as well be dusk. Sprinkling rain that wanted to be a mean downpour spattered down out of the dark sky as Faith squinted up at St. Michael's cathedral. Somewhere inside would be the nun - Sister Katherine - the woman who held all the answers; truth or lies, at this point he didn't care, he was just determined to find out everything.

Faith felt a wave of nostalgia as he approached the gilded church doors. When they were alive, his parents had never missed a Sunday service, holiday program or mass. Once Faith had hit his teens though, his all-night partying meant that Sundays for him had become forgotten sleep-in days.

Taking a deep breath, he entered the sanctuary. There was a low rumble of thunder, and Faith looked uneasily around the vestry, an old story about the voice of God flitting through his mind.

Almost immediately he spotted a priest stepping out of a confessional. Faith made his way toward him, made a quiet inquiry, and the man pointed out Sister Katherine. Faith swallowed heavily and licked dry lips when he saw the nun praying before a table adorned with flickering votive candles. Steeling himself, Faith thanked the priest and headed down the aisle and across the west nave.

"Hey, um, hi," he said awkwardly, having suddenly forgotten the speech he'd rehearsed on the way here. "Remember me?"

She stood up, smoothed the collar of her navy blue habit and gave Faith a warm but unknowing smile. "No, I'm sorry. Can I help you?"

"It's okay," Faith said, though he felt oddly deflated. "I've probably changed a lot since August thirtieth, Nineteen-eighty. Ring any bells?"

Slowly, Sister Katherine's eyes widened in wonder. "Faith?" She gave a start of surprise as she recognized him. "Oh, dear Lord," she breathed after several moments.

"Yeah." He fidgeted a bit, but quickly recovered his resolve. "I've gotta talk to you, Sister. I've gotta know what really happened the day I was born, about my parents...everything."

She stared at him, astonished. "I've thought about you...prayed for you, all these years," she told him, leading him toward the front pew. "Not knowing who you were, not knowing where you came from." Sister Katherine offered him a seat. "When the woman from the FBI showed up here asking about you, I didn't know what to think-"

Patience running low, Faith broke in, "Please, Sister, can you tell me what happened the night I was born?"

Sister Katherine folded her hands in her lap as she spoke, "When Teena Mulder came to me all those years ago, she was in such pain. You were so tiny when you were born...so ill..." The nun's sad voice trailed away. She took a breath and went on, "Teena, she begged me, pleaded with me to take you and keep you safe."

She leaned forward as she continued, "When I came to St. Michael's, the first friend I made was your wonderful mother. She was the kind of woman who, as you know, gave everything. She confided in me that she and your father had tried for years to have a baby. Meeting the Matthews was a blessing to me and I believe they were blessed when they agreed to take you. You were their miracle."

"They told me that once." Faith crossed his arms over his chest, hugging himself and struggling to contain his grief. "I came here...so that you could tell me to my face, tell me..." He blew out his breath in frustration. "I had to be sure. I didn't...I didn't know if it was the truth or not."

Sister Katherine's voice was gentle as she replied, "It's the truth. I always thought one day I'd have the chance to tell you the whole story. Your mother, I think she put up a wall, as if she could never say out loud that her Faith belonged to somebody else - if even for a moment."

Faith could see it in her kind eyes and feel it in his heart; the truth. This woman had cared for him, protected him, found him a good home - there was simply no way she could be lying. In that instant the hunch he'd clung to all the way back here - that his adoption was a mistake, a cruel hoax - torpedoed and sank without trace. Faith's heart contracted inside him.

"But why didn't my Pop ever tell me, huh?" Faith desperately wanted to know.

"Child, what could he do? Go behind his wife's back? Tell his son he came from another family? Break her heart like yours is breaking now?"

"He could've! Or you could've told me later on," Faith said, trying to ignore the pang that went through him. "I would've kept the secret. I never would've said nothin' to Ma!"

"By that time, it became one of those things that no one talked about, a secret that I promised to keep until the day your brother came looking."

Faith went rigid. Mulder. Being here and hearing everything from Sister Katherine, Faith couldn't help but understand how hurt the secret agent man - his brother - must've been. Faith caught his bottom lip with his teeth to stop it from trembling.

"She'd never talk about when she was pregnant, my Ma," he said softly, "or the night that I was born. She'd just get all quiet." He shrugged helplessly. "I always just thought she was embarrassed or somethin'."

"No," Sister Katherine assured him, gently patting Faith's hand.

"You know, I knew somethin' was off," Faith said, getting to his feet. "But I never, I never pressed her about it, maybe 'cos I was afraid of the answer." He felt hot tears spring to his eyes. "They never - they didn't say anything. I never would've known this. This - all of this!" He drew in a sharp breath and asked, "What was she...my real mom afraid of?"

Sister Katherine lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. "I truly wish I knew, Faith. The only thing she would tell me was that your life was in great danger and that you had to be protected. And now, here you are." She kept her eyes on him. "All grown up. So strong, and handsome," she commented, recalling how Agent Scully had warned her Faith could be carrying a potentially lethal virus.

"Oh, yeah, I look great." Flushed with embarrassment, Faith swiftly added, "I had a great childhood, and I had good times. But I look back at that now, and it doesn't feel the same to me anymore."

"What do you mean?" the nun gently wondered.

His eyes softened. "See when I was a kid, I made up these stories in my head. I said, "Maybe, y'know, maybe I was a surprise pregnancy after all those years they couldn't have kids" - and maybe - all the weird things that happen to me was - I dunno, 'cos I was from space, or somethin', like I fell out of the sky or-" He gave a sour laugh. "Now I know it's true."

"You were always a dreamer, weren't you, Faith?" Sister Katherine stood and moved closer. "I can remember when you were small and your parents would bring you to our Christmas programs. You never missed anything, your eyes were like saucers the whole time you were here."

"You remember that?!" Faith's heart lifted a little. "You've really been watching over me all this time," he mused, and suddenly felt better than he had in...in a long time.

She smiled gently. "I just want you to know-to keep in mind, even if you don't want to right now - that Teena Mulder loved you," Sister Katherine said, running a hand over Faith's hair. "You were loved from your first moment on Earth, and belonged to someone the day the Matthews first set eyes on you. You have to know that, Faith."

Faith brightened. "Sorry I came bustin' in here like a friggin' Jersey commando," he apologized, then quickly crossed himself guiltily.

"That's quite all right, Faith," she assured him. "I'm just sorry I couldn't give you the answers you were searching for."

"Oh, hey, no," he was quick to correct her, "I found them, yeah, I did." He nodded. "You really helped me a lot."

"I'm glad." She smiled at him warmly.

Deciding it was time to leave, Faith started back up the aisle, and Sister Katherine followed by his side. He couldn't explain it, but Faith felt a connection with her, a link - he decided not to analyze it, and just enjoy the warm feeling.

He stole a glance of admiration at the nun. Wow, he thought, and I thought my candles and crystals were sacred objects. They've got nothin' on her.

"Well, take care of yourself, Sister," Faith said as he reached the doors, "and thanks...for everything."

"God be with you," the nun replied. She turned back into the shelter of the church.

Faith stuck his hands in his leather jacket pockets, then set off down the church steps. Big raindrops were splashing down now, the earlier rain rapidly becoming a downpour.

As Faith disappeared around the corner to hail a taxi, a woman dressed in black left her hiding place from behind the steering wheel of a rental car.

She stood for a moment, looking thoughtfully after Faith, then moved silently toward the church door.

She paused by the door for a moment to reach into the inside pocket of her coat, and then she vanished quietly inside the church.

* * *

**PART EIGHT: IMPRESSIVE INSTANT**

Mochachinos.

"Mulder-kryptonite," the agent had declared, too weak to resist one and insisting on having something sweet with just a tiny sparkle of mischief in his eyes.

So instead of taking his lover out to one of Crystal City's more elegant restaurant's, caf�'s or even the heady choice of Mickey D's, Skinner had acquiesced, and now they sat together at the Four Clovers, in a tiny corner table beside the gleaming espresso machine. The tables, although indoors, were arranged as if on some chic European sidewalk, even down to the pointless green umbrellas over them. The walls, those ones not exposed brick, had been painted with murals of what were supposed to be the skylines of Paris, Venice and Rome. An old-fashioned jukebox strummed something soft and sweet in the background, a blues riff Skinner had heard a long time ago.

Mulder fidgeted a bit in his seat and took a long sip from his mug. Skinner couldn't help but be worried about the man and the upcoming session that Mulder had scheduled with his therapist; but then a tiny smile lifted the corners of Skinner's mouth when Mulder sat back wearing a whipped cream mustache.

"Aren't you hungry?" he asked the younger man, leaning forward to wipe away the excess cream. "Can I get you a sandwich or something?"

Mulder sighed, "No, thanks."

"How about a cheese danish?" Skinner offered, brushing angel food cake crumbs from his own lips with a napkin. "They've got plenty of those."

Mulder's mouth opened, but no words came out. He shook his head and let out a long breath.

"Fox, what is it?"

"I'm just a little nervous about what's going on tonight," Mulder confessed, a touch of anxiety creeping into his voice.

"I don't blame you," Skinner replied, though he softened his words with heartfelt comfort. "I understand."

"I know Dr. Werber said that he has a lot of confidence in this technique but I think that's why I'm nervous. If it works and I find out why my memory's blocked..."

"Then everything's going to be fine." Skinner reached across the table to confidently take Mulder's hand into his own. "I knew it when you decided to do this, and I'm even more sure of it now."

"Thanks, Walter."

"Listen, Fox..." Skinner could still feel his lover's nervousness, in the coolness of his hands, and the slight tremor in them that he squeezed away gently. "We all have doubts, but you can't let those doubts rule your life."

"I'm trying, I really am, but I feel like I'm on a roller-coaster that never ends." Mulder frowned, trying to convey his feelings. "You know, the day this all started - the attacks, the jagged pieces of memories - I really thought I was going mad, bit by bit." He heaved a meaningful sigh as he shrugged his shoulders, defeated. "One day I feel like I'm never going to remember, and the next I think it'll all come back to me," Mulder confessed. "I just want to be able to remember and for the roller-coaster ride to be over. To understand what happened to my mother...to understand the truth."

"I want that, too," the older man gently replied, in his warm, rumbling voice. "Have I told you lately how proud I am of you?"

"Yeah."

Skinner laughed when Mulder offered his patented shy, half-smile and rolled his eyes slightly.

"Just about every day," the agent continued, his smile growing warmer, "but you can tell me again - you know every time you say it, it makes me feel good."

"Well, good, then I'm just gonna keep on saying it."

Mulder's eyes shifted and gleamed with a sudden seriousness. "Walter, there is one thing I've decided," he put in, thinking that he'd never get a better opportunity to bring the subject up.

"What's that?"

"No matter what happens tonight - come hell or high water - I-I'm going back to the X-Files as soon as I can."

Skinner sat back and crossed his arms over his barrel-like chest while Mulder looked at him with those intense, determined eyes, pleading his case as if he were before the Committee of Professional Review.

"It's been my life for so long, Walter. You mean the world to me, but..." Mulder sucked in a sharp breath and shook his head. "That little weasel will destroy my - our work quicker than you can say 'Cancerman' if someone doesn't get in there and fix his little red wagon."

Skinner simply nodded, unfolded his arms and leaned forward as he said, "I understand, Mulder, and you know that I'm behind you 100%, no matter what you decide." His eyes shone mischievously as he muttered, "Hell, I'll even help you bury the little weasel's body before anyone finds out."

Mulder chuckled and visibly relaxed. Skinner could have sworn he saw a literal weight lift off the agent's shoulders. But at the same time, he knew that they still had what he could only foresee as a nasty fight ahead of them within the Bureau itself.

This man is so much more than a department head in my division, Walter was thinking while gazing across at Mulder. This man has made a home in my heart, and I'll be damned if the FBI, X-Files or anyone with the last name Spender is going to take him away from me.

Bolstered by his lover's support and the shock of sugary mocha sweetness, Mulder nodded and indicated that he was ready to head back home. "Hey, I thought it was my treat?" he protested when Skinner started pulling out his brown leather wallet.

"It's on me," the older man insisted with a smile.

"It will be," Mulder whispered, with a hint of his playfulness returning in the suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. Skinner nearly tripped over himself heading to the counter. While he paid the meager check, Mulder breezed on ahead. He stepped out and under a set of retro owl-shaped lanterns draped across the coffee bar's entrance, and let his tired eyes wander absently along the street.

A cool breeze slipped through the air and Mulder shivered a little. That's when his eyes fell on a passing cab, and the passenger slouching insolently in the back seat - a passenger who briefly glanced in his direction. Mulder tensed immediately. That face, the dark hair, those green eyes - they were all unmistakable: Alex Krycek.

Mulder felt quick panic and then bitter anger rise within him, but when he blinked and turned his head to follow the car, it had already disappeared. The agent clenched his fists reflexively, took in several deep, calming breaths, then let them out slowly. Couldn't have been him, no way in hell, couldn't have been, Mulder told himself over and over like a mantra. "Shit," he mumbled to himself, "I must be really losing it here."

Just then, Skinner came through the coffee bar's revolving door, car keys in hand. "Hey, you all right?" he asked upon seeing Mulder's vague, confused frown.

Mulder startled. "Yeah, sure. I'm fine."

Skinner tried to believe it.

* * *

"Well, if it isn't Faith Matthews." Scully didn't know whether to be furious that Mulder's brother had seemingly skipped town and worried her half to death in the process, or relieved that the young man had opted to phone her and let her know that he was back. She settled for a dose of the latter and a pinch of the former, and iced it with a bit of sarcasm.

"You don't look so good," Faith said, noting the agent's grimace. "What happened, did ya run into an old boyfriend?"

"Where have you been?" Scully demanded.

"Woah, Red." Faith nearly had to jump back when the woman bustled herself inside the apartment. "Nice to see you, too!"

Setting down her medical bag, Scully turned with one hand on a hip and arched an eyebrow. "Faith..." she began sternly.

"A'right, a'right, mercy," Faith said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Sorry I didn't give ya the four-one-one before I left, but I decided to take your advice." He flashed her a grin.

"My-" Scully tugged at her trenchcoat, and Faith promptly helped her out of it. "Thank you - My advice?"

"Yeah." He nodded, slinging the coat over a chair. "You didn't have to send out the calvary or nothin' or give Mags, who happens to be a pearl, the third degree, y'know?" Faith picked up and waved the "in case you get back" note from his best friend at Scully, then continued, "I went looking for answers about my past, found them, and hey, now I'm back and ready to have it sucked outta me." He stood with his arms open wide.

Scully made a wordless sound of surprise.

"My blood," Faith put in, offering Scully a friendly, amused look.

She smiled stiffly in response, embarrassed. Then, when Faith didn't seem to have anything further to add, Scully picked up her kit and followed him into the kitchen. She eyed the young man curiously while reaching inside her bag and finding a set of latex gloves, a vial, a hypodermic needle and a piece of tubing. She laid them out neatly on the table, not noticing the way she did so with trained surgical precision.

"Faith, pardon me for prying-" she started, but Faith shrugged and riffed, "You're a Fed, you can't help it."

"Thanks." She smiled coolly. "But I was genuinely worried about you. I didn't know if - about a million different scenarios went through my mind - none of which I liked."

"Sorry, mom, but I'm back now." He gave her a backwards boy-scout salute. "Faith Matthews always keeps his word."

"That statement doesn't exactly have me brimming with confidence, Faith. You made it pretty clear that you were leaving for Boston tonight," Scully casually reminded him while slipping on her gloves.

Faith cringed a bit. "Oh, that." He sauntered over to the fridge, popped open a bottled vodka cooler and took a quick swig. "That trip's gonna have to wait."

This time, Scully really couldn't hide her surprise. "Oh, you're not going to Boston?" she asked casually. "The job offer seemed so important to you. What changed your mind?"

He grinned sheepishly. "This is where I belong," he said softly, "this is where I'm gonna stay."

Scully glided over and swiped the cooler out of Faith's hand. "But what about your big dream? What about-" She couldn't help but wonder what had changed his mind so drastically, but decided to just let the subject go for the moment.

"What can I say?" He shrugged innocently, but Scully knew a poker face when she saw one. "I love challenges," Faith went on, "and I think I'm lookin' at the biggest one of my life right here."

Nodding her head, and secretly relieved, Scully gestured for Faith to take a seat at the kitchen table. Rolling up his sleeve, she wrapped the sickly yellow tube around his arm, instructed him to make a fist, then quickly found a vein.

"Did you guys ever figure out who stole my blood before?" Faith asked suddenly as Scully positioned the needle.

"No," she said grimly.

"Well, just don't lose it this time," he told her pointedly, then met her eyes. "I mean it, this better be it. I'm not stayin' here just to play lab rat, y'know."

"Uh, Mulder told me you went by to see him," Scully said, in an attempt to both change the subject by engaging the young man in small talk while also probing for information. It didn't fool Faith.

"Red, I know that look," he wryly replied. "We're not exactly at the put on pj's have a slumber party stage yet, but, yeah, we talked."

"I'm glad," Scully said, watching the vial fill with crimson fluid. "I'm also really glad that you're back," she added, then confessed, "I know that Mulder will be, also. Knowing that you're okay will be one less worry for him."

Faith blinked in what the agent recognized as an endearing replica of Mulder's own look of 'you-wanna-run-that-by-me-again?' surprise. "What-" he started, then gave a mock cry of "Ouch!" when Scully extracted the needle and swabbed his arm. "What's going on?"

Scully sighed. "Mulder's going through a lot right now," she explained, without treading into too much detail. "More stress than he'd care to admit, or ever would."

Faith nodded and grunted something that suggested she go on.

"Someone within the Bureau is attempting to take the X-Files away from him," she said, carefully placing the vial containing Faith's blood into a padded case.

"The X-Files?"

"Cases that involve the paranormal, the inexplicable, the bizarre," she explained, then snapped off her gloves and added, "Our work. Mulder's work. Your brother's abiding, sometimes single-minded concern. The thing that keeps him sane. He's determined that the truth is out there and he's just as determined to one day find it and expose it."

Faith nodded, remembering all too well his first encounter with Mulder and his offer to help him; an offer which verged on obsessiveness. Then his heart thumped at Mulder's confession about Samantha, his - their - missing sister. Faith didn't have to be Albert Einstein to put two and two together and understand why the X-Files were so important.

"Jeffrey Spender is very good at getting what he wants." Scully's voice shook him from his thoughts. "What he wants more than anything is to see Mulder's career ruined." She took a deep worried breath. "And he'll knock down anyone he has to just to achieve his aims."

"You know, I don't believe this." Baffled, Faith started pacing around the table, halted and narrowed his eyes at Scully. "I don't understand this guy. What did ya say his name was again? Spewler? What's his problem, anyway?" he wondered, then blew out his breath. "Let me guess: he never, ever got a date in high school. Is that it? Hmm...let's get him laid - problem solved!"

A slight smile played across Scully's lips. "Faith, I wish it were as simple as that." Then, seriously, she added, "He has, I guess what you'd call a vendetta against Mulder."

"What did Mulder do that this guy wants to ruin his life?"

"It's a long story, a *very* long story," Scully replied, closing both her medical bag and the topic. "Just trust me when I say that Mulder is facing a great deal right now, all right?"

"Okay," Faith began slowly, "so what is he doin' to save his rear? Or your rear for that matter?"

The look he gave Scully was so pointed that she blushed unintentionally, then shrugged a little helplessly. "He says he's going to handle it."

Faith raised his eyebrows so high that they vanished into his bangs. "What is he gonna do, wave a white flag and say "Help! I'm in trouble!"?" He shook his head. "Not that guy."

"Faith..."

"What?"

Scully regarded him for a moment, then slowly beamed. "I'm impressed. If I didn't know better, I'd say you've known Mulder for a very long time."

"Oh, it's just words." Faith waved a dismissive hand. "You know, I've picked up a few things what with you suits floatin' around me all the time."

"No, you're getting to know him," she insisted, moving to retrieve her coat. "You're listening, you're learning."

Faith shrugged. "Well, you and Inch High Private Eye had better watch your backs," he advised, "'cos I'm tellin' ya, Red, that guy Spender sounds like a loan shark I heard about back in Jersey. The minute youse two turn your backs - bam! - you're gonna find yourselves at the bottom of the river with a couple 'a' cinder blocks tied to your feet."

Scully shook her head, thinking he was blowing this out of proportion then a memory of one too many abductions passed quickly through her mind, and she said, "I'll keep that in mind. Uh, I'm on my way to see Mulder this evening." Scully cocked her head to one side and asked Faith, "Would you like to come with me? Just to say, 'hello'?"

"Nah, I've got a-" Faith paused, hesitating to use the word 'date'. "A friend's takin' me out to dinner." Catching the time, he crossed quickly to Scully's side, looping his arm through hers. "Yeah so you'd better get crackin' on that," he said, shooting a look at her kit while steering her toward the door.

"I will." Scully pursed her lips together and nodded. "I'll call you as soon as I have your bloodwork analyzed." Then, as an afterthought, she added, "Faith, you take care, all right?"

"Tell Rockford I said to hang in there, 'kay?" Faith said with a shy smile, then he waggled his fingers at Scully and gently pushed her out the front door.

* * *

A twelve year-old girl screamed when she saw the body of Sister Katherine. The nun had appeared to be kneeling before the church altar when she slid down the steps and onto the red carpeted aisle. The girl could not bear to look at the nun's body, yet she could not stop herself from staring at it. Her screams echoed around the old church, almost deafening in their reverberations, but she couldn't stop.

An hour later, the Newark police and two detectives watched the coroner load the body into the back of his wagon and drive away. They were stumped. The woman appeared to have been stabbed in the neck, but it was hard to say if that had been the cause of death - only an autopsy would determine the truth.

Slipping back inside the church, Detective O'Reilly gave his partner a look and shook his head. "What do you think happened here, Summers? I just can't figure this one. It doesn't fit any of the scenarios we've been looking at for unmotivated homicides." Then, with a shrug far more cynical than he really felt, "I guess we won't know anything 'til the crime lab gets done."

"I've got a feelin'," Detective Summers said, "this one doesn't have anything to do with us."

"I know," said the other detective, squatting down and inspecting the aisle where the body had lain. "That feelin' is what solves cases. And I've got it too - this one has a story behind it."

* * *

About the time Maggie was due home from work, Faith was just finishing getting dressed for his dinner date with Alex. He checked his reflection in the bathroom mirror, then found himself staring dreamily out the window. Faith could imagine himself sinking deeper and deeper into Alex's green eyes, and the thought of it caused him to blush - Blush! Since when does Faith Matthews blush, he wondered of himself.

Back in the living room, Faith closed his eyes once more and let his imagination drift back to Alex, picturing him sitting across from him at the restaurant, staring into those charming eyes, that intoxicating smile, looking...

"Gorgeous!"

"Wha-" Faith's hazel eyes popped open as the voice filled the room. He'd been so deep in his reverie, he half expected to see Alex standing before him. But no...it was only Maggie, who'd clearly just walked in. She was still lugging her purse and wearing a light jacket.

"Oh, what am I saying?" She slapped herself on the forehead. "You know you're gorgeous. When the frilly heck did you get back? What was so important? You've gotta spill and tell me!"

"This morning," he explained, opting to only answer her first question. He smoothed down his dark maroon blazer. "You really think I look good?"

"Of course, fabulous! Wait a minute!" She eyed him suspiciously, "Do you have a date?"

"Not a date, per se, just a thank-you dinner with Alex," Faith protested with a mischievous sparkle in his eye. "He called just after I got back and I'm meetin' him at the Oceanview."

"Oceanview?" Maggie breathed. "Faith, that's like the most expensive restaurant in town!"

"I know," he said softly.

"Wow, now that's what I call a send-off!" Maggie gave Faith a pleading look. "Come on, Faith. You've gotta tell me what's been going on."

Faith suddenly glanced at his watch. His eyes widened. "Can't now. Gotta book!"

"Wait a minute! Are you running out on me?" Maggie could see that Faith was trying to avoid the third degree.

"Hey, no, no, no, no." He glanced back at her. "I'll be back!"

She thought, trust Faith to get away easily, as the door closed behind him. Then a sly smile replaced the open kind one on her face, and she reached for the phone. She took off a dangling earring and quickly dialed a number, then pressed the receiver to her ear. "Faith's back in town," she reported, "get everything ready."

* * *

While Faith was heading out for his thank-you dinner with Alex, Skinner was helping Mulder prepare for Operation Get My Fucking Memory Back. Walter watched the young man meditate with not a little apprehension. All he could hope was that Dr. Werber's session would help Fox - or at least not make things worse. When the doorbell rang, Skinner cast a worried glance at Mulder, who had started pacing the room, gnawing on his lower lip, his hands flexing nervously. He was steeling himself for his therapist's arrival when Skinner opened the door.

"Mulder?" It was Scully calling to him from the foyer. "Would one of you like to explain what Jeffrey Spender is doing parked outside?" Her voice trailed off as she stuck her head timidly through to where Mulder stood in the living room.

"What?" Mulder exclaimed, closing his eyes and wincing.

"Well, do you happen to know someone else with the license plate I RULE?" Scully pointed out.

Mulder started after Skinner as the older man charged over to the window and peeked out. Mulder paused to look over his lover's shoulder, then shook his head in disgust. Sure enough, there was Spender parked in front of the condo, peering out of his car; he was staking them out.

"Do you want me to go down there?" Skinner asked Mulder with a steely edge in his voice. "Just for a minute or two?" If the implied menace in the voice wasn't enough, Skinner was already forming fists with his large hands.

"No," Mulder insisted. He clapped a hand on Walter's shoulder. With Spender watching them and trying to gain evidence of their relationship to use against them - Mulder could just imagine him sitting there with a telephoto lens or a video camera just hoping for a candid glimpse - it meant that the little worm didn't have anything concrete yet. Mulder fumed silently, and for an impressive instant, he wanted to chuck it all by ripping off Skinner's clothes and pressing their naked flesh hard against the window for the entire world to see. As much as the idea appealed to him, Mulder checked the impulse just as quickly as he'd prevented Walter from racing downstairs and turning Spender's smug face into mincemeat.

Skinner, controlling his own anger for Mulder's sake, drew the blinds closed. He cleared his throat. "Agent Scully, can I offer you a drink?" he asked, very much in need of one himself.

"That would be great." She nodded. "Thank you, sir."

After the older man had headed through an archway toward the kitchen, Scully gave Mulder a questioning look. "How are you feeling, really?"

"Bordering on anxiety," Mulder said, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. "If things go well tonight, though, I expect obnoxious behavior tomorrow."

"Well, how would you like some good news right about now?" Scully said, flashing a little smile of her own. Then she sat down on the couch.

"Hit me with it." Mulder slipped into a chair and rubbed his temples.

"Faith's back."

"He's back?" Mulder glanced up, surprised. "Is he-"

"Fine, he's fine," she assured him. "And I'm pleased to report that everything's set for me to analyze his blood in a private lab and, hopefully, isolate the virus."

"Scully, I wanna know exactly what you find out. I-I've gotta be sure that Faith's gonna be all right, you know, healthy when he's gonna be so far away."

Scully gave him an I-know-something-that-Mulder-doesn't-know grin. "How about I ease your mind a little more, Mulder?" She leaned forward. "I think your brother's going to be sticking around D.C. for a while."

Mulder blinked.

"I was just as surprised as you are," she continued, placing her palms up in an almost helpless shrug. "He told me he's staying here and that was it." Her smile faded a bit as she added, "Mulder, I hope you don't mind, but while I was with him, I let slip to Faith about what's been going on at the Bureau."

"Great," Mulder said with a choked laugh. "Well at least he's now a fully fledged, card carrying member of the "Watch Out: Mulder's Certifiable Club."

"I never leave home without it," Scully gently teased, hoping that her partner wouldn't be too upset with her apparent faux paus. "Well, the funny thing is, Mulder, Faith, well, he got pretty mad about the whole situation."

"No kidding?" Mulder grunted in surprise, casting a sidelong glance at Scully.

"He didn't have a stroke or anything, but I got the impression that Skinner isn't the only one Jeffrey Spender should be keeping his guard up against."

Mulder was silent for a moment, amazed and a little touched by Faith's concern. Then, he looked away and fixed his gaze on Skinner. "If Spender uses what he knows about us-" he muttered, then broke off, suddenly realizing he'd spoken his thoughts aloud. "Scully, I - me and Skinner - that is...Oh, hell," Mulder stammered, awkwardly shifting in his seat and waving his arms as if he were juggling imaginary oranges. "Things have been...and I haven't even had the balls to tell y-you..."

"Mulder," Scully said. She put a gentle hand on her partner's arm. "You don't have to justify yourself or explain anything to me. I know. I've always known." Mulder gazed at Scully, feeling gratitude and relief wash over him. She slipped her fingers into his hand and her vision blurred a little as her blue eyes began to pool.

Mulder gently squeezed, his eyes suddenly just as teary.

The doorbell chimed.

"I'll get it," Skinner called. With Scully's freshly poured glass of wine in hand, he opened the door to find Dr. Werber waiting out in the hall. "Hi, come on in," Skinner said, stepping aside. He immediately noted the long, black rectangular case the doctor was carrying, and tried to trust the doctor and his partner. "He's inside and ready to go."

Mulder wiped his hands across his face and stood as the doctor entered. "Let's rock 'n' roll," he enthused.

"Well, Mulder, how are you feeling?" Dr. Werber inquired.

"Um, well, strange," the younger man admitted. "I really don't have a word for it."

"I know. And I think this is going to help." After a quick round of introductions to acquaint Scully with Werber, the doctor looked at each of their expectant faces. "Do you have any last minute questions?" he asked.

"Doctor," Skinner instantly and protectively piped up, "you're certain this procedure can't hurt him in any way, is that correct?"

"It certainly can't," Werber assured him, then threw a gentle smile at Mulder. He then started to unzip the black case he'd brought and asked Skinner for assistance. Scully folded her arms and skeptically watched as the doctor extracted a device which looked like nothing more than an expensive keyboard while Skinner set up a folding tripod for it to rest upon. "We're almost ready here," Werber announced. "All that I ask of you two is that you just remain silent during the session." He clasped his hands together and glanced between Skinner and Scully. Then the older man crossed to Mulder's side and gave the agent a kindly smile. "Mulder, why don't you relax and have a seat?"

Mulder nodded, his stomach churning with a mixture of excitement and butterflies. He eased himself back into one of Skinner's overstuffed armchairs.

"Are you ready to remember?" Werber inquired.

"Yes, I am," Mulder said after sharing a long look with Skinner. "I've never been more ready for anything in my entire life."

* * *

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Chad Moore 


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